The Paradox of Attraction
by G-Cleft
Summary: Fuuko embarks on a journey that marks another milestone in her life, college, that is. But it turns out, she isn't alone on this quest. Guess who turns up to keep her company. *Finished* Please R&R. Thanks ^_^
1. A Day of Firsts

**Fuuko****           A Day of Firsts**

The world has changed a great deal since three months ago. Or I would still be in that endearing well-regarded edifice branded as high school.  Or perhaps at Yanagi's house, amidst the typical banter supplemented by a tray of her latest culinary expertise and occasionally, a cup of tea. Or that deli a block away from school, displaying a showdown of wit against Recca's… er… humor, or rather, the lack of it. Or creaming Domon at the latest video game in the mall. Maybe accompanying Ganko on her latest fashion escapade, which she had developed a knack for. Or helping Koganei with his homework.  Granted, the stars have changed their positions. The old camaraderie was somehow replaced by a fresh milieu, a collection of new faces. Gone are the old days. And I can personally attest to the fact that no matter how much time goes by, one cannot preclude metamorphosis. 

Which conveniently explained why I am sitting at an empty chair right now with a book in one hand. Hold on, you say. What's so unusual about that? Nothing blatant, huh. Except that if you look outside the nearest window of this **library (yes, you read right), there's a size-defying sign engraved in gold letters which hangs across the top of the building. It spells out: Tokyo University. Now about the book, it bears the heading _Politics in the 20th Century. _Yup. I am now a full-fledged college freshman poring over a 2365 paged hardback. **

Now don't be astonished. The abrupt change in behavior can be credited to one of those rare and a bit frightening moments when the recipient suddenly wakes up and finds a ray of light creeping into her soul, warming up those quiescent, almost dormant strokes of genius. I am immediately imbued by judgments pertaining to my future. It had finally dawned on me that if I wanted that top-class, quality, steady-paying job I desired, I had to pour some effort into it. Naturally it followed that in order to obtain that top-class, quality, steady-paying job I desired, the next step was to consider a good college. Which explains why I am here. 

An ear-splitting reverberation which was presumably due to a bell broke my latest unearthing on the monarchy system. For five seconds, silence prevailed, broken by the immediate stagger of footsteps toward the two exits adjacent the room. Approximately a minute afterwards, I was left to the company of books. My initial reaction was a face fault. 

I sighed and picked up the broad volume and moved towards the nearest door. My footsteps audibly shattered the silence enclosing the distance.  Even the librarian seemed to flee from her habitat. 

My first class on the first day of school was… (yes, you guessed right)… political science. Fortunately, I had explored the halls due to lack of activity the day before, and was quite sure I could find my way around. Picking up my pace, I found my way through the steady stream of students and into  the open doors of room PS12, ignoring the inconvenience of extra weight brought about by the book in my bag. 

The room was quite extensive, adequately adorned with a number of posters bearing Polsci tidbits in interesting shades of neon pink and purple, as well as some  illustrations of famous people who had managed to alter the course of history. I noticed I was among the last people to enter the room, and as a consequence I had the privilege of seating at the front. 

First hour, first day of school. And I had skipped breakfast for the benefit of academics. Which concluded the fact that this was, with a negative connotation, indeed, a day of firsts. 

I plopped into the only vacant seat, the one which was located dead center of the middle row. To my left was a shy, sweet looking girl which instantly reminded me of Yanagi. She pushed away a shock of fine dark green strands and offered me an introverted smile. I grinned back. And to my right was a guy who appeared rather… effeminate. He was dabbing his cheekbones with face powder, and noticing my sudden presence, dropped the cosmetics and waved at me gingerly. 

We were on the verge of exchanging formalities when a stocky man breezed into the room. "Okay. Shut up people." He boomed in a gruff voice. Without delay, all noise ceased. Everyone turned their attention to the man who qualified as professor. "For today, turn your big, fat Politics of the 20th Century book to the first chapter and marvel at the ingenuities of political science. Oh, and if you don't have a copy of the book, I suggest you make like a roadrunner and scram. Read chapters 1-10. I will give a test tomorrow. That is all." 

With that he took out a large hotdog from the opened suitcase on his table and started chomping away. For the next one hour and thirty minutes, nothing was heard except munching sounds and occasional burps. 

***

I felt the major signs of a migraine, as I gratefully crossed the border from death to life. Never in my entire life was I grateful to see the corridors, much more to actually walk in them. I know I am quite exaggerating, but after exploring the grim world of advanced physics, the mere sight of the halls would send you into cloud nine. 

_Temporarily into cloud nine, __anyway. I amended, sighing. Why on earth had I opted for full load? I quickened my pace, almost ramming into another hurrying figure. _

"Sorry." He muttered, almost a mile away.

I nodded distractedly and ran towards the flight of stairs leading to the second storey. Doubtless, Tokyo University was one of the broadest establishments in the entirety of Japan. 

At least for compensation, I had the knowledge that this was going to be the last class for today. And tomorrow, I had the whole afternoon off. Determined to look at the bright side, I finally located the room I was looking for and quickly pursued it, just as the teacher was on the verge of ramming it against my face. 

I slipped in rapidly. Mumbling a quick apology, I took an empty seat in the second row, trying to avoid the set of bemused glances being thrown my way. I was in the process of catching my breath when the professor, who looked somewhat in his mid-fifties, turned to me, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards. "Well, better late than never, ne?" His eyes crinkled, forming lines instigated by age. 

He turned to the class, the light expression on his face quickly replaced by that of a grave one. "However, that philosophy does not apply to getting work accomplished. That the very reason why today, as soon as possible, I am going to insinuate the finer points of literature. Insinuate in the sense that I am leading you towards the path of self-discovery."

By his initial facade, I could tell he was a man of caliber, one to be regarded as wise and precautious, but affable at the same time. Which was probably why nobody seized the temporary silence by groaning or complaining at the notion of working their butts off at the first day of class. 

"Which I hope to accomplish by pairing you off by twos. I have always believed that two minds are better than one. By the way, this pairing shall be consistent until the end of the semester. But before we get into that, shall we get beyond the formalities?" He smiled kindly, giving anyone the impression that he truly loved his job, and had embarked himself on the journey of drilling noteworthy lessons into the minds of young students.

He introduced himself as Mr. Yakiba, who has been in the school's administration for about 20 years. He mentioned a little about his family background and went into a series of hilarious antics he had to deal with from the previous batches. The class was immediately put at ease with its new instructor, established by the feats of laughter elicited at the end of each anecdote.  

"Anyway," Mr. Yakiba glanced at his watch. "Since I consider it against the laws of teacher ethics to be nasty on the first day of class…"

A chorus of giggles could be heard in the background.

"For today, I would like you to ascertain friendship with your pair, this is an essential ingredient to the success of the course. I know you would probably find it rather, er, uncanny that I am not going to pair two members of the same gender together. The series of projects you will soon accomplish will need the flair of a woman and the strength of a man, it's not that a woman cannot possess all this traits, but I assure you it will be more appropriate this way." He held up a silver box in his right hand. "All the names of the gentleman are in this very box. Ladies, you will have the privilege of choosing your teammate. Whomever you pick will be your official partner until the end of the term." 

"And then the icebreaker. I have here a couple of questions you are to ask each other simultaneously. Accomplish this by pairs and submit it next meeting. You can leave the room as soon as you have discovered your designated partners. Use the remaining time to fill out the questionnaires. That will be all for today."

I watched as girls pulled out a slip of paper from the box, reading out the names that determined how they would fare in this course. I could only hope that the one person I was intended to work with would be someone I could learn to get along with…

The girl beside me wiped sweaty palms against her skirt and pulled out a piece of paper, biting her lip anxiously. She quickly unfolded it, her face lighting up as her lips pronounced, "Kaide Nobunaga…"

Whispers filled the room at the sound of that name. I could only catch phrases such as, "The senior heartbreaker!" and "Oh, the bad guy." 

A tall boy with dark red hair falling smoothly past his chin stood up and ambled nonchalantly towards my seatmate's direction. She grinned up at him and took two sheets of paper from Mr. Yakida. Hooking an arm around his, they fled from the room. 

Mr. Yakida smiled at me. "Your turn, Miss…."

"Kirisawa." I said smoothly, taking a deep breath and drawing randomly a piece of paper containing the name that would seal my fate. Sending a swift line of prayer towards the heavens, I pulled out a slip of paper which, unless my eyes were playing tricks on me, actually glowed. 

As my eyes skimmed the content of the paper, my whole body immediately went limp. The color drained from my face. 

"Well?" Mr. Yakida prompted me, the smile never leaving his face.

I drew in a considerable amount of air. A lump seemed to have found it's way to my throat. Hesitantly, I summoned my voice and choked out the name…

"Tokiya Mikagami."


	2. Small World

Tokiya            Small World

Perhaps this is some kind of heartless shenanigan inflicted on an unsuspecting victim. Maybe, out of initial shock at the full, in the flesh view of my former schoolmate, I had checked out of reality and on the very first account, misheard something relatively lucid. I have never believed in karma and could not find any appropriate reason why fate would conspire against me in such a bizarre tactic…

Yet a greater part of me was actually relieved it was Fuuko, and not some random constituent of the opposite sex severely lacking in IQ points. Those episodes required a great deal of patience, a term which I am not yet familiar with. Fuuko, at least, was tolerable…(at least when she wasn't in one of her crazy moods). And she could take hints. Unlike some other people who could not seem to comprehend subtle statements such as "I'm busy." Or "Take a hike." 

It was rather ironic, since I was under the impression that after I left for college it would make scarce the possibility of crossing paths with any of the Hokage members. Yet I was a bit amused, the minute she breezed into the room with that familiar grin and unmistakable purple tresses altogether proved that this was, indeed, a small world. 

My reaction to this condition was definitely uncalled for. Externally, there was no change in composure but in my soul I was torn between torrents of shock, suspicious thrill, and annoyance battling for recognition. Shrugging it off, I presented a bland expression on my face and proceeded to act normally (which, when translated is: going into complete detached mode).

Cobalt blue orbs quickly scanned the room, finally resting on me. Her jaw dropped open and something akin to disbelief tarnished her face. After half a second, it was completely replaced by a broad smile and a slight wave in my direction. I nodded back coolly. Time must have ceased, for everything and everyone froze in their respective positions, assessing the seemingly surreal occurrence with building curiosity.

"Ohmygosh… He, like, nodded at her. *sob, sob* It's the end of us!" someone cried.

Fuuko snickered and raised an eyebrow at me. Sighing, I gathered my things and stalked out of the room, ignoring the awe-blended-with-curiosity glances thrown my way.

***

"It's nice seeing you again!" Fuuko exclaimed enthusiastically as we breezed past a number of students. A wide grin lifted the corners of her mouth and she clapped me on the back with a force enough to asphyxiate me momentarily. 

As much as I considered myself vigilant, I did not anticipate that particular gesture. As typically Kirisawa as it might have been, I would not have predicted it, on the account that I have stayed as distant as possible from human contact the past year, but to no avail. Seemed like an epidemic of stubbornness had spread and inflicted the systems of the female contingent in this university.  

I stopped momentarily in my tracks and looked her in the eye. "Tell me something, Fuuko. Why are you here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Nice to see you too, Mikagami." She lowered her eyes. "I had a major revelation. You see, I really wanted to pursue a career in meteorology." She paused and murmured, "Had I known you were in the vicinity, I would have settled for agriculture back at home."

I snorted. "Were you not relating how ecstatic you were to see me?"

"Oh. I changed my mind."

"Well, would you care to replicate the process and pursue agriculture instead?" 

She looked at me like I had sprouted a third head. "Mikagami…" she protested in a tired voice. "If you really don't mind, I would not want to play battle of the wits right now. It's been a really hectic day and the only break I had was seeing you and…" she looked downcast.

I sighed. Mood swings were not at all new to me, but did I really have  a knack for playing antagonist to a hapless victim?  And this was Fuuko, a former schoolmate/teammate/friend who was saying… directly quoted, she was actually glad to see me. I swallowed. Along with my pride… "Fuuko, I beg your pardon. I did not mean to get on your nerves by being irrational." I cleared my throat and looked her in the eye. "Will you allow me to atone for it by… let's say… treating you to dinner?"

She peered up at me, surprise written all over her face. "You mean it?" 

I looked at her somberly. "You know I am not the type to kid around." 

She snickered, slapping her thigh in good humor. "You mean, you fell for that?"

I frowned. "Fell for what?"

"That litany. It actually worked? You were able to project guilt… wow, you're not as stoic as I thought." She giggled, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

I shrugged, and answered nonchalantly, "You're a marvelous actress, Fuuko, but it doesn't matter. It was true what I told you, I did not mean to act like a jerk." 

All traces of hilarity disappeared from her face, instantly replaced by surprise. She was not used to hearing "heartfelt" comments from me.  Meeting my gaze with sincerity, she voiced, "That's okay. Everyone has their days. And the speech was not as fabricated as you think. I actually, truly meant them deep inside." 

"Oh." Was all I could say. Because I could not picture Kirisawa uttering a genuinely earnest comment, much less complimenting me without a sarcastic attachment. 

"So, does the offer still stand?" she asked me. "It's okay, you know. I thought you wouldn't take me seriously. And I wasn't expecting an invitation either." 

I was considering postponing it since she had a point, everyone had their days, and I was having mine. I did not feel particularly social at the moment. I opened my mouth to speak. 

"Hey… Fuuko!! That you?" a plump girl with curly hair seemed to materialize out of nowhere. She glanced self-consciously at me. "Um, I-uh, just wanted to relate to you the assignment in History. You have to draft an essay on the Meiji era, it's due tomorrow—"

"Miss Kirisawa! The incoming freshmen have an orientation today, at 6 p.m. Your attendance will be highly appreciated."  Another freshman called out as he passed by. 

"Oh! Fuuko! I'm glad I bumped into you. Here's your copy of Newton's biography. Be sure to present an outline in class tomorrow." Another one stashed a piece of paper  at Fuuko and waved distractedly, rushing to her next class. 

"Hey, hey! Fuu-chan, I was wondering if you had extra time. Your demonstration on the elements of weather was bogus, would you mind tutoring me on that?" another girl with strawberry blonde hair suddenly appeared at her side. She flipped back her hair and grinned at me. 

I had suddenly accumulated a healthy interest on the cerulean tiles of the floor. 

"Fuuko, I gotta go. See you." The first girl sauntered away, giggling self-consciously as she passed by me. 

"Me too. Good night!" the girl with red hair walked away as well.

Fuuko slumped to the floor and looked at me despairingly. "This is soooo not happening…" she ran a hand through her short violet hair and sulked.

I felt a surge of pity gnawing at me. Knocking it off, I told her, "You obviously need a break, Fuuko. Why don't you go back to the dormitory and catch a shut-eye? We'll accomplish the homework when you feel better." 

Amazing, I thought. So I was actually capable of adjusting another person's circumstance, now? Something was amiss. 

She looked at me gratefully and pushed herself up from the floor. "Are you for real, Mikagami?"

I decided it was best to extend the silence. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my pants, I glared levelly at her.

"Okay then. I guess I'll be seeing you." she said in a tired voice. 

I nodded.

"Tomorrow, 2 p.m. That coffee shop beside the music conservatory." 

"Fine, Fuuko." 

Feeling exhausted as well, I made an about-face and walked to my next class. Today was turning so surreal, it almost bordered on the bizarre. This time, I did not object to pair work. I did not object that Fuuko seemed to appear out of nowhere and I had to end up working with her. But I did object to the faint display of emotions that suddenly jutted out each time she was near me.

(Notes: ^__^ The first two installments of the fic. This is the first fanfic I ever had the guts to publish, so forgive me if it's not that great. It's a tribute to all FOR fans out there. And I seemed to have developed a knack for Tokiya-Fuuko pairing, for reasons I can only speculate upon. I'm going to try to inject some humor in the next chapters. Hehehe, anyway, any criticisms and complaints are most welcome. I'd love to hear what you think so please review!)


	3. Breaking the Ice

**Fuuko      Breaking the Ice **

**     I wedged a pencil behind my right ear and held a half-written paper at eye level. "A naked person whose skin area is about 1.5 m2 and whose skin temperature is 33 degrees Celsius is sitting in a room at 25 degrees Celsius. Find the rate at which the person loses convection if h is about 7 m2/w." I bit my lip and thumped randomly at the calculator. "So… hmm, it's 7.5 w."**

          "I'm afraid not. It's 84 w. You forgot to calculate the change in temperature." a familiar voice rectified. 

          I looked up into the impassive face of Mikagami. "Hi, Mikagami. Quit doing that. You're depriving calculators of their use."

          He smirked, taking the seat next to mine. "Temperature conductivity is not an alien concept to me. If you recall, I used it to defeat Mokuren in the Dark Arts tournament." 

          I blinked. "Indeed. Did you have any idea that technique does not have to apply to gross horticultures such as Mokuren? It can defeat the average student's brain cells." 

          "I have not considered that," he said, coughing to interrupt a snicker. "Anyway, while you toil over the yore of physics, can I get you anything?" 

          "A cup of mocha latte would be nice." I told him, erasing the thoughts playing in my mind about the unfeasibility of Tokiya Mikagami being a gentleman. A while ago, I had been rehearsing in my mind how the appointment would fare. It would go something like this: Enter Mikagami with a scowl on his face. Mikagami asks for his paper and fills out the required information in no less than a minute. Mikagami dropping subtle hints about the time while I accomplished my work. Mikagami deciding he did not have the grace to wait and heading for the exit. 

          And there were some other things that fell under the criteria of unfeasibility. He showed, though it was rather off tangent, the tiniest hint of amusement when I made a crack about the pains of physics. 

          "Kirisawa, what on earth are you staring at?"

          I snapped back to reality and presented him with a carbon copy of one of his famous pokerfaced glares. "I'm not staring at you, Mikagami. You wish. I was observing that cactus plant behind you." I shuddered with distaste. The reason behind such a grotesque display intrigued me. And the fact that it was exacted at the center of the coffee shop mattered very much. 

          "If you say so." He said in a voice which implied he believed everything but. Mikagami rose from his seat and walked to the counter, eliciting blushes and giggles from the group of girls seated at a distance.

          As I turned back to my module, I found myself pondering some things. There was something, perhaps a little change about Mikagami's demeanor I had vaguely noticed. True, he was still the reigning heartthrob, a statement which used to rouse questions in me. Granted, he was attractive to a large extent (which, to some girls, was STILL an understatement), but so is an ice sculpture. And he also acted as cold and uncaring as the inanimate figure. What exactly is soooo appealing about that? But was that merely scratching the surface? Though we fought as allies side by side in combat, I could cite enough evidence to prove I knew basically zilch about the guy. 

          "Here. I took the liberty of ordering chocolate cake." He informed me, neatly placing a steaming cup of latte and a piece of chocolate cake in front of me. 

          "Wow! That's nice!" I declared, clearing the table of my nuisance: the calculator, scratch papers and a red pen. I took out 2 separate sheets of paper, yesterday's assignment and handed him his copy. "Instruction says we are to ask each other these questions simultaneously. I jot down your answers on my paper, and you take down mine. It's like Ice Breaker with a twist." 

          He scanned the paper, frowning. "I'm not really accustomed to the idea of uttering personal information to another person but for the sake of compliance, I will submit myself to being interrogated by someone with the likes of Fuuko Kirisawa."

          I stuck my tongue out at him. "Hey, relax. It's not like you're talking to a complete stranger. Besides, I have no plans of photocopying this and endorsing it to your fans club."

          The corners of his mouth twitched up, something vaguely close to a smile. "Thank you very much for that assurance. Shall we get started then?" He took a small sip from his cup. Swallowing, he read the first question scrawled down on his paper. "If you were the incumbent president of the country, what would be the first project you would put into action? Hmph, speculative questions." 

          I folded my arms across my chest and thought for a while. "I suppose I will initiate a program catering to the needs of the family. The kind that fills in whatever is inadequate. Perhaps if there were lesser dysfunctional families around, and families operate the way they are supposed to, to love, protect and guide each other, there will be lesser cases of crime. And as long as no blood is shed, there are little or no reasons for man to harbor hatred against each other."

          He listened attentively, jotting down notes as I spoke. 

          "Sensible, Kirisawa. But you do realize that no matter how successful your attempt is at burying the hatchet between man and the rest of his species, it will resolve approximately nothing. Man is a cornucopia of intricacies." Mikagami spoke in calm yet frighteningly frosty tone. 

          I sighed. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, comrade, but I was just pointing out that love can never thrive in a place where hearts are blinded by loathing. Maslow characterized it as a level of need, that emotion called love. Without it, no one can survive."

          He cringed, averted his eyes and replied, "Justice is a prerequisite of love."

          The manner in which he spoke drove me to the notion that he was conveying something about his past. Yet, sensitive matter as it was, I decided to concentrate on the assignment. Much as I wanted to elaborate on my point, I had no idea how to express it, without hitting some nerves, to the personification of intelligence himself.

          I cleared my throat and held up my list. With a forced laugh, I said, "Can't imagine how we got to that. Your turn to talk. Hmm, given the chance to go back in time, which particular event would you like to recollect?" 

          "Christmas, when I was five years old. I would describe it as the happiest moment of my life." 

          He remained tight-lipped after that. On the other hand, I felt something akin to a tender ache enveloping my heart. I was positive, during that particular point in time, his family was still intact. They were probably enjoying the festivities that only the yuletide season could offer, basking in each others' company. The young Tokiya donned a smile on his face as he clung to his sister's hand, while pointing excitedly at the colorfully festooned Christmas tree. 

          I smiled involuntarily. 

          "Somehow, I was under the impression that flowers were the best gift you gave to someone you valued. I presented Mifuyu a bouquet, and her appreciative smile is something I can picture even with my eyes closed." He continued. And although his voice was completely static, there was something in his eyes that said it all. 

          "Anyway…" he waved a hand impatiently, as if immediately regretting his earlier statements. "Answer me this: What was the tackiest fashion ensemble you ever set your eyes on?"

          I grinned. "I would have to say, skin-tight leopard spotted shorts, an orange t-shirt and green Nikes." 

          He arched an eyebrow. "You don't mean…"

          I laughed out loud, knocking on wood. "Yeah. No offense, Domon."

          "What did he say when he found out you were leaving?"

          "Ugh. A pitiful sight. He cried rivers and petitioned me to forfeit my plans."

          "By the tone of your voice I take it you do not miss him at all?"

          "Never in that manner, Mikagami. You know it." 

          "I see."

          "Next question. What makes a good conversationalist?"

          "Someone who openly expresses his or her point on view without stepping on the other person's toes. Someone who respects other people's privacy and  isn't brash. One who is bright, witty and fights for what she believes in…"

          "Aha. You said SHE. PLUS, you were staring at me while waling away. I WONDER what that means." 

          "Don't read much into it, Kirisawa. That was nothing." Softly, he added with a snort, "It wasn't you."

          I rolled my eyes. 

          "Let's move on, Fuuko. Tell me your favorite childhood animated characters."

          "Such a long list. Aya of Weiz Kreuz, Aoshi Shinomori of Rurouni Kenshin and Hiei Jaganshi of YuYu Hakusho." 

          "Figures. There is uncanny resemblance between you and your preferences."

          "MIKAGAMI! Are you referring to me as boyish??"

          "No. For all you know, I might be suggesting that THEY are vaguely effeminate. I meant by being strong-willed and persistent fighters."

          "Oh. Hmm, so you WATCH those programs?" 

"I was a child once." 

I grinned. I was under the impression that he preferred shows featured in the Discovery Channel. Stuff like: 'The Astounding Wonders of Potatoes' and 'All You Need to Know About Warts'. Kidding. 

And while we're on jokes, funny, how despite the piling amount of pressure and schoolwork, I'd have time to enjoy a simple assignment. Even more amusing was the fact that I wasn't uncomfortable with Mikagami's presence when on normal circumstances I would have been reduced to thin air at the sight of him. Maybe college isn't so bad after all.

(Note: ^__^ First of all, I would like to apologize to any Kenshin, Aya, or Hiei fans out there for (possibly) marring their bishounen status. I myself am smitten by these guys. I just kind of used them to drive a point, so please forgive me if someone took personal offense to that. Hmm, I hope this chapter passes for okay. The problem on temperature conductivity actually came from one of my old seat works. Hehehe. Oh, and please feel free to comment. I am anxious to see how I am faring at this ficcy composition business.) 


	4. A Monopoly of Strangeness

Tokiya        A Monopoly Of Strangeness

                   _Supply the logical punctuations for each statement:_

_If when you were born you were crying and everyone around you is smiling, then live your life so that when you die, you are smiling and everyone around you is crying. _

That was reasonably easy. Mentally rolling my eyes at the content of the sentence, I scribbled down the answer [(p.q)c(r.s)] on the space provided and moved on to the next item.

_If love knows no reasons, and love knows no lies, then love defies all reasons; and if love has no eyes but love is not blind, then love sees but it doesn't mind._

          Unconsciously scrawling down a pattern of variables, I began pondering upon_ the viability of the declaration. Its' familiarity sent bells ringing in my mind; it definitely sounded similar to what Kirisawa uttered a while ago. How queer.  It was alarming that such a sensation to which according to some testimonies renders you defenseless and holds you slave to its mirage could still exist. Yes, that is all love is and all it will ever be. A mirage. Shakespeare was correct in stating that love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that they themselves commit. Yes. A mirage and a mistake. _

_If the brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past then you can't go on well in life until you let go of your past failures or heartaches._

For a split second, I almost succumbed to the belief that lightning may strike me in a brief moment. A pang of ire traveled through my nerves. It was almost as if these examples were constructed to drill a point into my brain, the statements itself pertaining to something associated with my past. Too much of a coincidence… I shook my head and sighed. Such contradictory citations

_If one door of happiness closes and another opens, then it is not the case that we look so long at the close door and we do not see the one which has opened for us. _

***

Nobody, except the usual thong of girls went to the library for a brief review or to accomplish delayed homework. They were there for purely mysterious reasons which I did not bother to find out. I entered the library, finding quick solace in its silence. The librarian looked up, nodded with recognition and asked me if I needed anything."

"Nothing." I answered curtly.

"It's quieter than usual, Mikagami-san." She straightened her wire-rimmed glasses and patted gray strands held together by a bun. "The usual crowd is nowhere in sight. I heard that a new establishment.. what do you young folks call it… a _mall… just opened, and the girls went to explore it. So you won't be bothered much. Good day, Mikagami." _

I sighed with relief and walked towards the general reading area. Nobody was in sight. The librarian was exact, the room was almost empty except for one figure…

I squinted my eyes and padded silently across the tiled floors. And stopped. A girl was sitting at the farthest end and in earnest concentration, scrutinizing a selection of some sort. 

Oh. It was Fuuko.

Fuuko, studying. I shook my head in disbelief. Back in high school, the only time I had seen her in the library was during occasions when she verified information about a call slip announced over the p.a. system. Deny it as I might, I could not help but approve of her current disposition. Doubtless, Fuuko was a smart girl. It was not surprising that she passed the university's high standards with flying colors. It was just that in the past, she seemed to refuse the notion of unveiling her aptitude. Still, she was one of the rare types to breeze through every menial class with nonchalance and still get good grades. What ever factor motivated her to venture into the narrow road of knowledge puzzled me. Yesterday, during our conversation she actually quoted Maslow. 

I looked at her again, to make certain I was really witnessing this scene. Her eyebrows were lined in ardent concentration, back leaning comfortably against the steel chair. One leg crossed over the other. Purple tresses were arranged neatly in a headband. 

Her hair grew longer. It did not make much difference before, but as I stood there looking at her, I noted a distinction. She resembled a girl a bit visibly now. And… 

And what?

It did not matter. 

I turned my back and escaped the confines of the library.

***

"Class dismissed." 

And right on time, at that. The bell rang its approval. Students rose from their seats and took off at top speed. I sighed, my mind mechanically reviewing my schedule. At 5 p.m., an hour from now, I was due at the laboratory for my last class, Advanced Biology. I had an hour to kill. Which, I mentally calculated, I was going to spend working on my research paper. 

"Hi!" a cheery voice accosted behind me. 

I turned around to find Fuuko grinning at me, arms folded over her chest. "Can I help you?" I pronounced inanely.

"Oh. I just wanted to relay a message. I got a call from Recca last night. He wants me to send you his greetings."  She told me, fidgeting with the straps of her backpack.

"I see. Is that all?"

"Yes, that is all. No messages to relay back?"

I thought for a while. Something was bothering me, a question that led to curiosity, one of my least favorite emotions. Especially when pertaining to another person's welfare. I was wondering about how the baka was faring in life. Did some sense finally infiltrate his thick skull? Had he changed some irksome personality traits? Was he doing well in class, like Fuuko? He had better be taking good care of Yanagi. 

"Nothing." I answered.

Fuuko stared back blankly at me. Taking that small gesture into consideration, I think she expected me to be able to conjure even the smallest formalities. Her eyes said it all: Nothing, not even a simple accosting to your former teammate?

"Nothing. Yet." I amended, a little peeved.

"Okay. You're rather busy, I see. So I won't be in your way. See you around, Mikagami. Good day to you!" with that, she gave a small wave and headed for the door.

I stared at her retreating back, speechless. A pang of confusion hit me. Yes, I behaved in my typical aloof self but some small weak voice kept berating my conduct. It was alarming that a small part of me felt like asking her to stay. Which was annoying, since I really had nothing to say to Kirisawa. Fine, I will state this in a straightforward manner: she is a good conversationalist. But that particular trait in a person did not normally send me into bouts of confusion. 

Shaking my head, I resolved to clear my thoughts, which, lately seemed to operate on some monopoly of strangeness. 

(Note: Hmm, I had fun writing this chapter, though it's pretty short. Arrghh… my attempts to add humor to the storyline are faltering! I hope the cobwebs in my brain clear out soon. To the reviewers: thanks for the encouragement! Hope I dom't disappoint you. ^__^) 


	5. Driven Almost Out of Wits

**Fuuko          Driven Almost Out of Wits**

Literature Homework: Ice Breaker 

Name of Partner: _Mikagami Tokiya-san _

Partner's Year and Course: _Second year Law student_

Mikagami-san's answers:

1. Name one of the first books you've ever read as a child? _Hamlet by William Shakespeare and the Phantom of the Opera by Gastron Lenoux._

2. Do you think it's ethical to help someone die who's in constant pain and doesn't want to live any longer? _No. Life is meant to  live to the fullest, even if  the existence of pain is hampering you from doing so. _

_3. What really gets on your nerves? __Aggressive people, some behavioral problem in the female gene pool which triggers them to lose all principal sense of delicacy, poise and etiquette; sloppy work, untidy places and when my precious time is being wasted._

_4. What's the first sign that you're angry? _ I don't drop hints, angry or otherwise.__

_5. Do you believe dreams do come true? __I don't answer intolerable questions either. In the first place, that is why they are called dreams, because they are meant to be all that._

_6. What do you do for leisure? __How and what I spend my time on is not anyone's concern._

_***_

Tokiya Mikagami is an enigma. Like a poet, whose masterpiece left indelible marks on the lives of people, but whose character remains unsigned and unknown through the mist of years. A math dilemma, which, even when supplied with all possible arithmetical formulas, can not be solved by relentless calculation.

He is an icon of vagueness. He would  fashion a rather sublime and consistent carbon copy of a popsicle for one moment and qualify for a decent and sensitive human being the next. Which is rather ironic considering the pattern of his behavior…

ARGGH! Enough of this nonsense. Frustrated, I slammed down the totally innocent piece of paper on my desk, HARD. The alarm clock and other what-not that crowded the oak table jiggled slightly. How I got myself tangled in a behavioral analysis of Mikagami was beyond me. 

I was on the verge of retiring to bed when the literature homework caught my eye. I read through it and therefore, acquired more cobwebs to the growing amount in my head. 

Why should it matter that most of the time he was his own distant, care-less self? It's nothing out of the norm. Maybe the correct question, what bothers me is: How can he be so detached yet so _unpredictable_ at the same time? Proof of the latter: He was actually nice to me at the café. Okay, fine, credit it to once-in-a-blue moon occurrences. He, if at that time my senses were straight and I had no hearing impediment, offered to treat me to dinner. Okay, let's say that was out of the blue. Maybe he decided some loss of space in his bank account would come in handy. But heck, he even _apologized for being, directly quoted, __irrational. And Mikagami admitting his faults… is the kind of news that would make the headlines faster than the widespread of some rampant epidemic. _

I'm not making a big deal of this. Although I am getting a bit paranoid. I'm just intrigued because I got it smack in my face this time. I was erroneous in certain judgments of him. I had carved an impression and viewed him as a person who's vocabulary revolved solely around three words: me, myself and I. 

Personally it felt quite nice to witness this slight change in his aura. And….

And what?

And nothing. It did not matter. 

Taking a deep breath, I turned out the lights and resolved to get what little rest I could. 

***

**          Never mind that I was lagging behind schedule, and that I still had a mountain of homework to scale. Or that last night my time of rest summed up to four measly hours and as a result, I was developing deep folds underneath my eyes that no amount of concealer could ever obscure. The only good that can possibly come out of such dire conditions was that I had lost a total of four pounds. **

But still, looking at the bright side and all, this was not turning into the best of days. Not really one for insomnia, I woke up five minutes before my first class, grabbed the first pair of jeans, shirt and shoes I laid my eyes on and dressed up in a record-breaking two minutes twenty seconds after taking a hurried shower. 

Someone whistled as I breezed past the corridors. "Hey! Alert the fashion patrol! Nice outfit! Love the shirt!"

Much as I was running out of time, I looked down to examine my clothes. My jaw promptly dropped. Neon green shirt with red polka dots clashed immensely with pink jeans and ratty sneakers. Very much annoyed, I darted out of sight and back into the dormitory. Settling for a white "Don't Mess With Me" shirt which appropriately matched my mood and dark blue jeans, I rushed back to class, sweat clogging the pores of my skin. 

I was reprimanded for being late by my not so favorite Political Science professor, who made me stay after class to soap the dirt infested walls of the classroom. 

And when I thought things couldn't possibly get much worse, I had to meet the most insufferable person to ever walk the planet. In the person of the culinary "expert" managing one restaurant in that newly opened mall. 

Exhausted from incessant scrubbing, I decided to pursue a change of routine and scenery. I shrugged it off, after all, it was nothing out of the norm.   Hailing a cab, I gave directions to the nearest mall, which happened to be recently established. 

While the cabbie enthusiastically cracked outdated knock-knock jokes, I felt my mood lighten up a bit. He seemed to take a general liking for me, saying that if ever he was blessed with grandchildren, he wanted them to turn out just like me. I had to admit, I was genuinely touched. By the time we reached the mall, he refused to take my fare, perpetually insisting it was "on him".  

The chef, on the other hand, was another story. He took one short look at me and frowned. "Young lady, I don't feel the urge to bestow you with even the smallest amount of my fortune, so if you're going to beg for loose change, I ain't giving you the time of the day."

I looked down at my soiled shirt and tattered jeans and got his point. "Ahh, sir, you see---" I desperately tried to tell him I was there only to avail of the restaurant's service; to dine, no more, no less, but he had already launched into a seemingly endless tirade. 

Clicking his tongue, he said, "Such a tragedy, today's generation. Look at yourself, young, pretty and relegated to the degrading profession of leeching on other people's income." 

That's what he said, _leeching. _And what was he talking about… me, _pretty_? I snorted. Keeping my temper in check, I opened my mouth to protest, but he beat me to it.   

"I don't doubt you are gifted with intelligence and potential, but you are probably too poor to even consider education, am I correct? Let me guess, your mother had you by unwanted pregnancy and your father is either an alcoholic or a drug addict. Or he took off with some whore in your early childhood. Such waste. " he smirked at me, ignoring the line of people who had gathered behind me to state their orders as well.

Suppressing the urge to soc him in the face, a habit I had supposedly outgrown, I took a deep breath. Why did he have to bring my parents into this? I can produce sufficient evidence to support the fact that they raised me well, thank you very much. And I couldn't take it… I did not come all the way here to play butt of joke to this… this human scrapbook of irksome personality traits. And he can have that tray of ramen noodles I was allegedly ordering shoved down his throat. As far as I'm concerned, he was not very well familiar with his etiquette. 

Regretting the fact that I had left my fuujin in the deepest recesses of my closet, I stormed out of his territory, furious with rage. Adding to my temperament was the heavy traffic that seemed to materialize out of thin air.  For the second time that day, I was late for a class. This time it was Literature.

***  
  


"Mikagami Tokiya-san, may I request that you read a sonnet of your choice from the options on page sixty-three?" Mr. Yakiba was saying. I darted past him and plopped down on my seat. 

When I looked up, he was glancing in my direction. His lips formed a smile. "De ja vu?" 

The class laughed. 

"Gomen nasai!" I forced a cheerful voice. "You don't know what ordeal I had to go through!" 

He waved it off, as if it were an everyday incidence that late pupils turned up  30 minutes into the first period for class. Relieved, I pulled out my textbook from my backpack and turned it to the mentioned page. 

When I looked up, Mikagami stood in front of the room, an open book in one hand. He was wearing one among his many collections of suits, a black blazer over white turtleneck, dark gray pants, no necktie in sight. One girl audibly sighed. Mikagami slammed the open book shut and looked around solemnly. "Sonnet #18, by William Shakespeare. I will recite from memory." 

The girls were gaping at him. I couldn't blame them. I myself had grown eyes the size of saucers. Unbelievable, I thought. Of what breed were his brain cells again?

He paused, and his whole countenance differed faintly. With a relaxed semi-smile on his face and his tone soft and gentle he began in deep tenor, "_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"_

_"Thou art more lovely and more temperate."_

All motion ceased, as it was he conquered every being's 100% attention. Dumbfounded myself, I was strained to pay attention and enjoy a rare, once-in-a-lifetime performance exhibited by one of the most unforeseen artists around.  I picked up my jaw, which had dropped all the way to my navel.

"_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all to short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimm'd, And every fair from fair sometime declines, by chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd."_

 To say he was efficient in speech to the extent that it would have shamed even Shakespeare himself was putting it mildly. I shook my head and grinned. Something about his voice, the manner of his delivery, the apt accent and the way he applied rising and falling intonation ignited a glow, hmm… admiration…. inside of me. For those reasons, he recites poetry the way a good pianist plays—with transparency of tone, faultless dissection and enunciation (phrasing in musical terms) to make diverse words (or the melody, still applying to the musical realm) shine forth. 

In building crescendo:

"_But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;"_

Stealthily now… what? I peeled my eyes open… Mikagami had just sounded… well, gentle. And why were these bumps suddenly rising in my skin?

_ "Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;" _

His voice returned to moderate, gradually reaching a more sedate pace. 

_"So long as men can breathe or eyes can see…_

_So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."_

Cheers burst forth and echoed through the classroom walls for five minutes, approximately. Girls had either fainted or were staring at him indiscreetly with various shades of red painted in different volumes on their faces. The effect was something like he had publicly addressed that poem to each of them personally in order to profess withdrawn adoration. And the guys… turned to him with disturbing awe. 

I wasn't expecting him to look in my direction but when he did, I flashed him a thumbs-up sign.

*** 

Notes: 

Hello y'all! ^^ How's it going? *sigh* If you think it's rather strange to be reading Tokiya narrating a poem with feelings…tell me about it…took me forever to ponder on how to make him execute that. I just thought it would be difficult if he just stood there and read out of the book in the usual stoic manner. The thing with the chef, which looks like it doesn't connect with the plot, I promise to explain it in the next chapter. 

Oh, by the way, to Haruko, who pointed out, "although i wonder whether fuko's choice of anime characters was intentional, since they all are icy characters who don't talk much, but have a hidden pain behind their cold exterior.. **kinda like tokiya ne?" (*ahem*,*poke* *poke* *hint* *hint*) ^.^ It was allegedly unintentional. :-) **

No amount of words can express my gratitude to whoever you are, sitting there and reading this fic at this very moment. And hmm, if it's not asking too much, please critique my work? Let me know if I hacked Tokiya or Fuuko's character, or if there are some bits you think I should fix. Arigato gozaimasu! One last thing, I know I'm starting to sound like a greeting card, but with my sincerest intentions in mind: Have a nice day!


	6. The Cutting Edge

Tokiya                    The Cutting Edge

**To****: _Mikagami@tokyo.net_**

**From:  _R_Hanabishi@sugoi.com_**

**Subject:  Just extending pleasantries  **

_Hi Mikagami._

_            Imagine my initial shock when I heard you and Fuuko were enrolled in the same university. Phrasing the obvious, we haven't heard so much as a speck from you since…um, time immemorial. Which is not an understatement. You literally just took off after graduation. _

_            Everyone's been going, like, "I wonder what's turned out of Mikagami," for such a stretch of months now that even **you** would find it, at the very least, stirring. There was one point in time when Ganko couldn't get through one week without mentioning how much she missed you. And just imagine the state Kaoru's in… I don't think you've noticed, but the kid really looks up to you, like you were his big brother or something. He was everything but happy by your sudden absence, though he covered it up pretty well. _

_            Oh well. So, how's it going? Still treading the path of revenge? Has there been any episode where you had to wield your elemental weapon yet again? Things are a bit of a drag here, but then every once in a while some creep just materializes out of thin air with a challenge. Nothing to worry about, though. Many a tireless incident, using Saiha would suffice. Piece of cake._

_            In case you're wondering, which you probably aren't, I'm taking up Sociology in the local university. I don't know, but anything related to culture has proven to be my strong suit. Domon is unbelievably pursuing architecture, for reasons known only to himself. Hime is planning to major in education, since she's so good with our- I mean, the kids.  And don't pop an artery either, I have reiterated time and again to the point of cliché that I will protect her until my last breath._

_            And since I've been fulfilling this task with 100% efficiency, in view of fairness, you better keep your end of the bargain too. Just as you have threatened me with bodily harm if I didn't take proper care of Hime, you had better keep an eye on Fuuko. She's tough stuff, I know, but if something happened to her while you had the chance to help out, it won't get pretty. _

_            Ganko and Kaoru are asking for a favor. They wish for you to consider visiting, even for a short while. I too, am anxious to see you. Hime as well._

_            I'm not expecting a reply, man, your reading this will be enough. Take good care of yourself, ok?    _

_Sayonara._

_            ~Recca_

_            **To:**__R_Hanabishi@sugoi.com_

_            **From:****  _Mikagami@tokyo.net_**_

            **Subject:  -----**

            _Hanabishi, you are such a pest. I won't even ask how the heck you acquired my e-mail address as certain ideas are starting to form in my mind. Nevertheless, it's  good to hear from you._

_            The reason why you heard scarcely from me is because time had become equally sparse since I joined this institution. But even before, time had become a force to be reckoned with and at the last moments of my stay there it had obliterated all possibilities of bidding everyone farewell. Frankly, I wasn't even planning on doing so. And no, I am not, as you put it, "still treading the path of revenge". I've had my share of stress to last me a lifetime, thank you very much, and would not dare invoke many a wearisome visitation to add to my present troubles._

_            You mentioned that I ought to look after Fuuko's welfare. Fine. In the interest of fairness I will resign myself to such a task. But as far as I'm concerned, that's where the line is drawn._

_            Tell Ganko and Kaoru I am considering the visit._

_***_

_                      _

            She was late. 

            I glanced at my watch for the what felt like nth time, though my mind had already calculated the difference in time. Sighing, I decided fifteen minutes was enough test of patience and started walking across the grassy lawn. Fuuko was almost never late. I started to imagine what kind of alibi she would feed me with. And it was highly probable that she need not concoct some lame and unbelievable excuse. I suppressed the wild urge to march into Yakiba-san's office and insist on my notion to work alone on this task. Having to work in a team only provided possibilities of exasperation.

            If it were someone else, I would not have even wasted fifteen minutes of my precious time to begin with. 

            That sole thought brought me to a grinding halt. Irked, I dismissed the notion that I trusted Fuuko enough to give her the benefit of the doubt.  Of course that was completely impossible. It goes without saying that I don't trust anyone… at least not that easily. 

            I squinted my eyes. At the end of the quad, someone was flailing her arms wildly.  At that point I realized the object of my vexation running toward me, panting and gasping for air. 

            "I'm sorry." She said.

            "You're late." I snapped, looking away. "I have better things to do than wait around."

            A lengthy silence ensued.

"I know." 

My gaze snapped back at her. I was expecting her to  lash out an extremely sarcastic comment or brand me with one of her unique labels, which, interestingly, swiveled around the word "ice" and all its grand variations.  

"I'm sparing you the lecture on good manners and proper conduct." was all I said. I was about to walk past her when I noticed a big gash on her left hand that cut across her palm and dark red spots on the grass.

Frowning, I took her hand. "What happened?"

Pressing my fingers beside the site of the wound to stop the dark liquid from trickling, I pulled out an immaculate handkerchief from the back pocket of my  jeans and carefully wrapped it around her hand. 

No reply.

I sighed as I watched the light hue of the cloth-turned-bandage soaked up blood. 

"Umm…. Thanks." Fuuko croaked out, recoiling. 

That's when it finally dawned on me that I was still holding on to her hand for no apparent reason. I dropped it promptly and averted my eyes. "You have not answered my question yet. What insane product of your negligence led to this mishap?" I asked in default frosty tone while mentally scolding myself for being extremely… capricious. 

She just stood there gawking at me, the blood draining from her face. 

"I---uh," she looked completely speechless, still wearing the full-fledged colossally-stunned-out-of-my-own-skin facade. My patience proved redundant. Shaking off "that look", she answered in a composed tone, "I attempted to cook."

I rolled my eyes. "Kirisawa, spare yourself the torment. There are such things as microwaves and instant noodles."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of encouragement, _Mi-chan_." she replied, her voice coated with sarcasm. "Well, you know, it's customary tradition for a girl, at least for once in her entire life span to pick up a ladle and a pan and concoct something edible." 

I almost reeled from the impact of hearing _that _reference to my name. I have not heard it in such a long time that it almost sounded… foreign. In fact, I thought I would never be hearing it again, in a perpetual kind of way. 

"Why are you staring at me? Is it because with the lack of culinary expertise I displayed, you have arrived at the conclusion that I'm not a normal stereotype of my fellow species?"

"I knew that a long time ago." 

Her eyebrows shot up. "I beg your pardon?"

My brain was in autopilot mode _again_. That comment was theoretically meant as sarcastic, not hinting a tad of awe. "I'm a regular witness of your blunders. Is that why you were late in the first place?"

"Guilty. I was trying to assemble a plate of sukiyaki." she said.

"Unfortunately, that is all it will ever amount to. Trial. And irrevocable error." I countered in a mocking voice.

"Hey, is that supposed to be some kind of joke?" she asked, quirking a brow. 

"I'm not one for humor." 

"That's what _you _ think." Kirisawa replied. "Okay, Mikagami. Here." She reached for her backpack and pulled out a folder. "This is an outline of the questions for our project. Please edit it."

"Hmm. Consider it done." I said, taking the folder, tucking it under an arm and walking past her. "Sayonara."

"Mikagami, wait." She called out in a tone so soft, it would not have been heard half a mile away.

I turned back and raised a brow.

"Thanks."  She held up her left hand to indicate the handkerchief.

I waved the notion away. "Don't read into it. It doesn't give you an excuse to chide me about softening or thawing or whatever you want to call it. See you tomorrow, Fuuko."

***

"Konbanwa, Mikagami!" A deep baritone voice called after three short raps were heard on the door of my room.

            "Hmm…." I mumbled, not looking up from my latest read, Ovid. "I'm kind of busy right now, if you don't mind."

            Footsteps reverberated through the walls as my unanticipated visitor crossed the broad living room to where I was stationed, in my room, poring over the Greek novel.

"What else is new?" a mop of pale blue hair and deep-set eyes came to view. The company was Seita Kagaki, one among the residents of this dormitory and a vague acquaintance. He leaned on the door frame, arms crossed. 

            "I doubt you came all the way here to hurl innuendos at me. What can I help you with?" I finally slammed the thick book shut and turned to him.

            He wore that impish grin on his face again. Holding up a bulging plastic bag, he rolled his eyes. "You've got mail, Mikagami. Fan mail, that is. Hey, have you ever considered getting a personal mailing address? Your letters always crowd the dorm's mailbox."

            "No." I muttered, standing up and taking the bag from him. Sighing, I pulled out a handful of letters. At the bottom of the pile was a package labeled, "Sweets for my Sweet" and a dozen of other whatnot including one catalogue with letters carved out that read, "Let's be bosom buddies!". Quickly, before even considering the possibilities of contracting whatsoever disease the package contained, I handed the plastic bag back to Kagaki, who readily accepted it with a knowing smile.

            Clicking his tongue, he mentioned casually, "Heard you recited a poem in Lit today."

            I shrugged. "So I did. What does it matter to you?"

            "It means zilch to me, Mikagami. But your magnificent speech triggered some serious female hormone pandemic. Thanks to you, half of the school's population are walking around like dazed zombies, gushing out your name and all. It's sickening. And to think half the amount of girls weren't even in the vicinity when you delivered your _magnum opus."_

            "I don't care." I said in an off-hand tone. "So if you will kindly excuse me, Kagaki, I'd like to resume my agenda which was rudely interrupted by your appearance."

            "One more thing, Mikagami. I had lit last sem, and got paired with this pretty junior. I was so taken with her, and it could have worked out between us, you know, but unfortunately, it didn't. She hates me with a passion."

            "What exactly is the point of all this mindless babble?"

            He arched an eyebrow. "Nothing. Lit is a great subject to know great people." 

            "I see. Is that all?"

            "Oh. And I saw your partner. Miss Kirisawa? She's extremely pretty."

            "Really? I haven't noticed." I struggled to make my voice sound inane.

            He shook his head and turned towards the exit. "Whatever. Anyway, one would have to have no eyes not to notice. Oyasumi nasai." 

***

The university boasted a panoramic view, at least as soon as the late afternoon chimes greeted the fading sun. Streaks of gold and combined hues of varying red stained the sky, and quiescence took the pedestal over the usual hubbubs of dialogue. It was exquisite, the way the pale rays of the sun mixed with the green of the leaves, bringing forth a gold outline. 

At this time, there were only a small amount students milling about. And I was grateful for the moment of solitude I encountered nearly next to never.

 I sat on one of the kiosks, one leg crossed over the other. 

_De ja vu. I reflected, coupling the thought with a sigh. Having been assigned the daunting task of interviewing three prospects of famed reputation, one for each month up till the end of the semester was no mean feat for me, I'd have breezed through the assignment and obtained a good grade--- if and only if some certain people complied with the etiquette of showing up on time. I have definitely no plans of stretching my patience again. _

"Hey Mikagami! You look really dashing—without that scowl on your face." 

I spun around to greet her with an exasperated growl, but found my actions suspended in mid-air. She stood in front of me now, that familiar teasing grin stretched across her lips. Yet, everything about her was entirely out of place. I could only stare back, though I knew by doing so I was destroying my stoic façade.

I never, ever thought she'd look so pretty without that ridiculous headband off. Purple locks cascaded down lithely, crowning her face. A short, dark blue dress which brought out her curves and accentuated her eyes and high-heeled white sandals finished the look. 

I swallowed, guiltily wiping out further remnants of the poem I had recited a week ago out of my mind. 

"Fuuko," I began, shoving my hands into the pockets of my khaki pants. She was not looking at me for a particular reason. "Much as I loathe to hear myself say this, you look undeniably beautiful."

She let out a short laugh. "That's funny. I almost think you were sincere in your statement."

"I am." I answered shortly, quickly turning around. I didn't want her to detect the fact that her appearance had any effect whatsoever on my demeanor. "Let's go. We're way behind our appointment"

She was so silent afterwards it almost beleaguered me. Together, we walked to the parking lot where I had left my vehicle. I pulled out a small device from my pocket and pushed a button which unlocked both sides of the car. I opened the passenger seat's door for Fuuko and waited for her to climb in. 

She gave me a small smile before stepping in. 

That was all it took to fuel poetry back to my brain. 

I snorted as I closed her door, got into the driver's seat, and fastened my seatbelt.  

We drove around in complete silence, until I located the farthest building west of Sakura Avenue. Wedging the car into a sleek space approximately half a mile away from the famous café, I turned off the ignition, got out, and opened Fuuko's door for her. Why she insisted on flashing that smile every time I did something considerably civil was almost exasperating, for it drove my heart beyond its usual acceleration. 

She held the interview paraphernalia in one arm, and glancing quickly at its content for the final time, turned to me for an inquiry. "So, what do you know about this guy, Mikagami?"

I shrugged. "Nothing much. Except that he's one of the most respected dignitaries in his league, owning five prestigious establishments all over Japan."

"And all these have to do with culinary arts, right?"

"Correct. He generates an income of half a million yen each month."

Her eyes widened. "That's amazing." Then, frowning, she turned her attention to the full glass doors of the café. "Why oh why, of all possible topics to interview, must it have something to do with my frustration?"

"You mean cooking. Well, just look at it as an opportunity to pinpoint methods you have overlooked in your previous attempts. Let's go, our guest is probably wondering if we are to even make an appearance." I started walking ahead of her.

We stepped inside the café and were led immediately to a secluded area to wait for our dinner guest. I called him up the night before, scheduled an appointment, and this was it as far as I was concerned. 

"This is such a cozy place." Fuuko sighed dreamily as she looked around.

I had to agree. What made this place so unique was the setting itself, there were hardly any chairs in this place, except for the row of bar stools situated at the "refreshment area", where you ordered your drinks. At the center, three sofas facing each other and a round table in the middle allowed the guests to recline. A bookshelf which collections included "The Prince", "The Death of Arthur", "The Green Mile" and other best sellers was situated at one corner. Dim light provided illumination. All around the room low tables were scattered, and pillows served what used to be the chair's purpose. 

"_Ay kkkeeent billliiiiib eeeeet, yuuuuurrrr eyyyy drriiim kaaammiiinggg truu…"_

Unfortunately, there was also a karaoke machine somewhere, and someone had just volunteered to test the stamina of our cochlea.

"_Ayyy keeeennnt bbillllib daaat I haaaaabbbb poooooollleeen poooor yuuu…" _

I eased myself into one of the pillows and tried to ignore the noise.

Another voice chimed in. "And I wasn't searching, was content to remain." Fuuko sang along softly. "It's so ironic that I'm back in the game." 

I raised an eyebrow. The girl had just sounded melodic. "You can sing?" 

She laughed and took the seat next to mine. "I can follow a tune. And I'll take that as a compliment."

I was dumbstruck, of course, and all I could do was stare disbelievingly as she jovially belted out the rest of the lyrics to the song. And as I formed one of my most penetrating glares, there were a few realizations that raced across my mind. And she was looking at me with a little smile whilst singing warmly. That sent off warning bells in my head. I tried to recall the last time I was comfortable with someone else's company and vice versa. I could not call a single moment to memory, and therefore generated musings such as, "what the heck is it about this girl that just melts the doom and gloom out of everything?". I was almost annoyed, definitely not used to such treatment. 

"What's the title?" I asked, not heeding the semi-awed expression that had presented itself on my face.

"It's _Fallen._ Why? You can relate to the lyrics?" she suppressed a giggle.

"Of course not." I answered hastily, looking away from her. In the end, I painted on a smirk and said, "Not bad."

"Hearing that from you, out of all people, is definitely exhilarating." 

My heart skipped a beat. "Why?" I asked cautiously. 

"Because, considering your proficiency at almost anything makes it seem difficult to appreciate those gifted with lesser potentials. And because…." She looked like she was about to say something else, but clamped her mouth shut, a smear of rose on her cheeks.

"Fuuko, just so you should know, I don't consider you "gifted with lesser potentials"."

She put on a teasing grin. "What's this, Mikagami actually being modest? Have I checked out of reality?"

I was about to release a sarcastic remark when I noticed the expression on her face. She looked like she was ready to pop a vein. Gesturing to an approaching figure, she asked in a steely voice, "Is this our prospect? Mr. Taketa? Because if it is, I'm bolting." Her face almost resembled her hair color.

"Fuuko…" my voice trailed off as I glanced quickly in that direction. "Yes, it is. Why, do you know him?"

"Oh yes I do." Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Pardon me, Mikagami, but I think I just lost my appetite. Mind if I leave?"

Before I could berate her, Taketa-san marched up to our table, a broad smile on his face. "Good afternoon. I am very sorry if I kept you waiting. There were urgent details I had to attend to in the kitchen. I presume you are Mr. Mikagami?" 

I nodded politely. 

His attention focused on Fuuko. "And this beautiful lady is… wait. You sure look familiar." He adjusted his glasses and peered at her. "Aren't you that pretty girl who was begging for loose change a week ago?"

Fuuko groaned softly and looked ready to pounce on the guy. 

"I'll explain later," she whispered to me.

"This is your boyfriend, young lady?" Taketa-san looked at me. "You have good taste. This man does not conform to my image of a typical teenage boyfriend, though. He seems to exude the aura of maturity, of intelligence and respect in spite of his good looks."

"I'm afraid there's a mistake---" I started but he cut in. Fuuko was also vehemently objecting.

"You know, you can always tell the fine ones apart from the way they tie their necktie. It is a mark of intelligence. As well as the way they hold their chopsticks during a meal." He continued, then gestured to both of us to sit down. "You know when I was a young boy…"

"Um, sir, just to set the record straight, Mikagami and I are not a couple." Fuuko droned, blushing slightly. 

He snorted. "That's what they all say." 

Fuuko gave me this look and we were reduced to listen to a ten-minute tirade on the yesteryears. 

"Sir, we gather that you are one of the most sought-after cooks in the entirety of Japan. When did this interest in culinary arts surface?" Fuuko asked when he finally ended his speech.

He scratched his head uncertainly. "Well, I can't really say it was innate. When I was courting my wife, she really did not give me the time of the day. Then I heard that the way to a woman's heart was through her stomach, so I worked day and night to concoct this gastronomical delight. The next day she proposed to me." 

"Interesting." Fuuko smiled as she took down notes.

I rolled my eyes. At least she had calmed down to a certain degree. 

"So, Tokiya, when you finally work up the nerve to profess your undying love to Miss Kirisawa, you would do well to bring a tray of the latest culinary craze as an accomplice. She might only hear your words and not your heart, but food speaks its way to her heart."

I promptly choked on the mocha latte I brought to my lips. 

"Any more questions?" he asked. "I do hope you are enjoying our humble meal. The main course will be served in a minute." 

"It's quite good. Mr. Takata, would you tell us about the genius behind the structuring of your cafe?" I inquired, trying to dismiss his earlier remarks.

"Technically, it was my mother's design. She was attached to the memory of my father. In their early marriage, they used to spend a healthy amount of time eating on the floor, in low tables and in pillows. So she constructed this setting in memoriam of him. It is so sad to lose a loved one. I mean, Mr. Mikagami, would you be able to even contemplate life without the essence of someone like Miss Kirisawa?"

"Takata-san, I…" I was about to point out the fact that his question digressed extremely from the topic, and while at it, get it into his skull that Fuuko and I were merely schoolmates, when he spoke in an authoritative tone.

"So cherish her. Treat her like a rose, something she deserves. And don't allow her to leech on others' income just because of the presence of inadequacy." 

I raised my brows and looked at my partner. "I think I deserve a blow by blow account after this session. I'm starting to have a headache." 

Taketa-san guffawed and winked at Fuuko. "Make sure you give your boyfriend a good massage. That works better than any aspirin!"

***

As soon as we left the confines of the café, Fuuko broke into gales of laughter. She had just finished relating to me the first encounter with him, where he mistook her for a beggar. "I swear, that guy is demented." 

Exasperated, I rolled my eyes. "Not to mention insufferable, and constantly straying from reality."

"I know. For a moment there, I just wanted to disappear into Magenshia's pan dimension."

I snorted. "A complete barrel of laughs."

"Tell me about it. To think he branded us as… a couple."

"The hilarity of it…"

"Yeah. What a kook…"

"An extremely repulsive idea." 

"Ugh. Absolutely insane."

"And highly unfeasible."

"Yeah…"

"Indeed…"

Silence took over. A minute later, she caught my eye and smiled.

And for the first time in two long years, I allowed the corners of my lips to twitch up.


	7. Insides Turned Jelly

**Fuuko       Insides Turned Jelly**

            It was one of those Thursday afternoons where after long intervals of trying desperately to fight off drowsiness from droning lectures, infinite lengths of book browsing and a severe case of insomnia, you finally decide to let a good cup of coffee do the dirty job for you. I wandered into that beloved, quaint little café next to the music conservatory, where Mikagami and I got furthermore acquainted over the very first pair work. 

            It's amazing how much time passed by. That was approximately two months and three weeks ago. Not much has changed, although this amount of hard work, which I am not at all accustomed to, was taking its toll on my body. I accounted for this overstressed condition by sleeping late into weekend mornings, and going for a stroll every once in a while.

            Smiling solicitously at the waiter, who bowed and disappeared from my vision, I leaned back into the leather booth and drew the steaming cup closer. 

            "Well look who's here. Fuuko-chan! Nice to see you!" a semi high-pitched voice drawled just as my lips came to contact with the mug.

            Setting the coffee aside, I looked into the smiling face of my Pol Sci classmate, who looked particularly stunning in a plaid shirt and black slacks… um, for a guy. He gave me that signature beauty queen wave, tossed his long tresses back and plopped down on the seat opposite mine. "Mind if I keep you company? Or are you waiting for someone else?"

            I laughed. "No, I don't mind. I'm all by myself anyway."

            "WHAT?" He gasped. "Where's your attachment? That incredibly handsome guy with silver hair?"

            I gaped at him with wide eyes. "Nice of you to put it that way. Hey, you know, that term suggests an electrical tape of some kind. A rather bizarre term, if I must say so. You make it sound like we're stapled together, or fastened or something. If Mikagami heard---"

            He grinned at me. "Hey, relax. I just like using gaudy terms, that's all. It's just that I see you guys together most of the time, that's why I've come to think you must be more than friends or something."

            I held up both hands. "It's not what you're thinking. Trust me, there is no emotional involvement of any sorts."

            "So it's purely platonic?" He raised a brow inquisitively. "I can't believe you. After almost three months of total exposure to the guy there is NO emotional involvement? You must be a mutant."

            "Purely platonic." I confirmed, keeping my voice static. "Wait, scratch that. He's just being civil to me, I don't detect any interest in affiliation."

            He shook his head, displayed a queer smile and remained quiet for a while. "If you don't mind me asking, Fuuko-chan," 

            I took a sip from my cup and nodded to prod him to continue.

            "I find Mikagami-san intriguing." 

            "You and three-fourths of the school population. What else is new?" 

            "So… you don't?" He looked at me penetratingly, as if he had just queried something extremely rhetorical. 

            I averted my eyes and sighed. "I don't see what this has to do with anything. What were you going to ask me?"

            "Hmm, is Miss Kirisawa stalling? Because as I see it, that question was allegedly harmless. Why are you suddenly looking at the toothpick like it's the most interesting thing in the world?"

            "Alright. Let's get straight to the point here. What do you want to know about Mikagami? Not that I can be of much help." 

            He gave me a coy smile. "Okay, we've established the fact that he's, like, the ultimate paragon of gorgeousness. He's also got that chill factor that appeals to us ladies. Unfortunately, he tells everyone who goes within a mile radius of him to drop dead. So, what do I do to get his attention?" he stirred the straw around his latte listlessly, propping up his chin with his other hand.

            I was already laughing my head off. "For Pete's sake, just approach him and voice out what you had in mind to say."

            "Like it's that easy. Maybe for you. But he ignores everyone." He whined. "I've noticed, though, that he's a bit nicer to you." 

            I waved my hand dismissively. "We have to act civil toward each other otherwise we're going to wind up at each other's throats. It's not a special treatment. Put another person in my shoes and he won't act a bit differently."

            "Somehow, I doubt it." He ran a hand through his hair and forced a grin. "Look, I've been watching Mikagami-san for some time now, and he always looks so blasé. But it's different when you're around… I don't know how to put it but…"

            "Forget it, Yukino. You're overanalyzing, for one thing." 

And from there, I found it imperative to change the topic. 

                                                                        ***

            Whistling a tune, I perched myself on one of the benches of the kiosks, then fanned my face, feeling the intensity of the scorching heat on my skin. Sighing with relief, I did a quick perusal of the surroundings. Yes! No Mikagami in sight. I was not late this time, and my running the distance (like a crazy maniac) from the dorm to the kiosks was not in vain. Therefore, there will be no attempts for him to lecture on the finer points of punctuality.

            Smiling a little to myself, I remembered something out of my conversation with Yukino three days ago. He had mentioned that Mikagami acted a tad bit nicely to me than the general public. As patronizing as it was, I snickered at the thought. Yeah, right. The only possible reason why that might have occurred to him was that either Yukino really did own an active imagination and was reading too much into the situation or he really embellished in his mind the fact that I could... potentially… understand Mikagami.

            My eyes softened at the thought, and confusion hit my head with the impact of a falling piano. If anything, it was the other way around. Mikagami seemed to be the only one who could be fully capable of understanding me. While I was forever "that hot-tempered tomboy" to other people, for some reason, I could be myself around him and it did not seem to faze him one bit.  

He was also the first person to suggest to my face that I was not unattractive. Other people would prefer the less verbal methods, which included warm greeting cards, or trinkets, or a bouquet of flowers. If it were some other person I'd have laughed my head off and told them to get a life, but since it was Mikagami, who had this no-nonsense look on his face, I was terrified to feel my cheeks heat up. And twice that day, at that. The first was when I saw him from the distance. I never paid much attention to the aesthetic aspect men possessed before, but that day…my senses grew distorted, almost overwhelming me. I immediately noticed the glow of his hair, and that his face actually had form, and his eyes that were an intensifying shade of cerulean, all the more enhanced by navy blue long sleeved polo and black jeans…

            I sighed resignedly. This was exactly why I find it imperative to change topics when the current subject is Mikagami. I must be deluded or something, what thoughts were I entertaining? Crediting it to temporary insanity, I tried to block the direction of my thoughts. 

            "Ohayo." 

            "Uh… ohayo." I was stunned to find the owner of the voice standing right in front of me.

            "You're early." He remarked. He did not say anything afterwards.

So I continued, "Good thing I remembered I had an alarm clock, courtesy of Yanagi. I usually sleep late into Saturday mornings." 

            "Pity you didn't." he answered nonchalantly. In the coldest, frostiest tone I have ever heard him use in conversation.

            _Someone sure got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. _

Following him to his car, from wherein the entire ride was lapsed in silence, I began to reconsider my intuition. Was I wrong to think that perhaps it was possible that we could get on friendlier terms? Perhaps. And just to prove that I am not a good judge of character, I had jumped into an ambiguous theory. I thought I saw something… charming… in him, something beyond the cold front. That after Mifuyu's death maybe there was a chance (however small it was) that he'd take off the that steely cold camouflage and reveal his true self.  

                                                                        ***

            He was walking behind me in a slower pace, glancing with inscrutable eyes at the steady stream of people coming towards our direction. I was rushing like mad, not really crazy about the thought of being swallowed up the crowd. 

            He was in one of his moods. Or maybe it was displaced aggression. He was probably frustrated about something,  and venting it on less suspecting victims. Naah, not his style. Perhaps he failed to pass a requirement on time, and knowing the standards Mikagami sets on himself… Mikagami, not complying with an assignment…that was absolutely unattainable. 

            I tried to imagine what the others would do had they been on this scene. Hmm, if Recca were here he'd probably drop a joke or two and if Mikagami doesn't react, he'd resort to pretend there was no mood swing detected. If it were Yanagi, all it would take was a smile and an uplifting phrase and MIkagami would probably be walking on sunshine. Domon would assume on the spot that it was because of some girl and tease him to the extremes about it. Kaoru would ask him if he were okay. Ganko would offer him some candy and ask him if that made him feel any better. 

            On the other hand, I specialized in direct confrontation. 

            Saturday was always the busiest day in Tokyo. People shopped, hastened to get their errands done, dog walked, visited the dentist, etcetera, etcetera. The streets were filled with people, everywhere you looked. A sea of faces. 

"Fuuko, look out!" Mikagami's voice called out suddenly. 

            I turned to stare at him in surprise, suddenly thrown off balance as someone rammed into my shoulder, sending me off my feet, the image of cold hard cement looming in front of me. Silently cursing my lack of alertness, I braced myself for the blow, my heart jumping to my throat. 

            It never came. Instead, I found myself leaning on Mikagami, who's arm wrapped firmly around my waist, hoisting me back to my feet. I was trying not to acknowledge the scent of his cologne, or that in his arms for the shortest, most fleeting moment, I felt safe and secure.

            To my sheer horror, random constituents of the crowd had paused to watch the action and were presently applauding. 

            "That was such a romantic performance." One girl said with a sigh. 

            I felt my cheeks flaming. A minute later, after the excitement cooled down, I turned to Mikagami and managed a soft thank you. 

            He shrugged it off and started walking. Something within me snapped, and I held him back with an arm and decided to ask the inevitable. "Is something the matter? You're oddly quiet." 

            "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the talkative type, Kirisawa." He answered coolly.

            "Yup, but you're not mute either. What's bothering you?"

            "I don't want to discuss it, least of all with you." He answered in a biting tone, walking ahead.

            I stared daggers at him, suppressing the urge to shove a kaze natsume blade up his nostril. I recognized it too well, it's the clam syndrome. He had all the symptoms in the worst possible condition. He was closing himself off of the world, shrinking into a realm of nonexistence. 

            I didn't like it one bit.

            I dashed madly after him, ducking violently to avoid colliding with people. "Tokiya Mikagami, you jerk! I'm keeping my nose out of your business, so you don't have any right to walk out. It's totally tacky and only hysterical, immature females do that!"

            "Get off my case, Kirisawa. " His voice rang from a distance. 

            "I'm not even on _your case_, moron. And you're not being professional either. This thing is a requirement, and you're dumping the whole pathetic lot of your sob story on it." I narrowed my eyes, undaunted by assorted looks on people's faces.

            I finally detected his long, silvery hair. He was waiting in one corner, away from the crowd, his blue eyes blazing. Feeling my heart flip over, I approached him with a small amount of trepidation. 

            "What is it, Kirisawa?" He demanded, a slight edge in his voice. 

            Wrestling the possible answers in my mind, I decided to go for sincere and honest. "I know something's wrong. I was wondering if I could help in some way." 

            Snorting, he looked away. "It doesn't concern you. What are you doing, aiming to be a psychologist?"

            "No, just a friend. But I'm sure you wouldn't understand." I wanted to gouge his eyes out, there and then. I don't care if they were the rarest, prettiest shade of light blue, or whatsoever. Lifting my chin at him, I decided now was the best time to turn around, so that he wouldn't see my face. My heart was now grappling with different emotions, that if it stopped and I dropped dead, I wouldn't blame it. 

            I was the most surprised by his reaction. 

            Someone behind me _giggled_ and mouth dropping open, I turned to glare at him, livid with rage. If it were up to me, I'd have seized the moment to kick him in the gut. "Are you _mocking me?"_

            Stopping smoothly, he presented an impassive face, although his eyes were sparkling with mirth. 

            Impatient at not being giving a reply, and how he was using up the time posturing and laughing discreetly at me, I screeched, "I don't think you're just standing there to look cute. Out with it."           

            "Kirisawa, you tend to get pretty corny when you're furious." He spoke finally, in a firm yet amused voice. "Women." He muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

            It took all my self-control not to bite his head off. "Now look who's aiming to be a psychologist." I countered sarcastically. "For your information, there's a fine line between earnest and corny." 

            Rolling his eyes, he told me, "I have never met anyone as stubborn as you, Fuuko. But you were right about one thing. I shouldn't let certain troubles intrude on the present business, not that I was drastically manifesting any." He looked away from me, but before he did, his eyes took on a distant expression. "Fuuko, have you ever…"

            "What?" I asked, listening intently. He definitely had a hundred percent of my attention.

            Sighing, his face hardened into that familiar look of indifference. "Nothing. Sumimasen."

            My shoulders fell and frowning at him, I said, "I didn't mean to stress that we're on official business here, Mikagami. If something's eating at you, you better deal with it. No use bottling it all up."

            "It is not a big deal, Fuuko. Nothing to fuss about." He lifted his arm to glance briefly at his watch. "I think we have to go. We've wasted plenty time already."

            Swallowing, I decided to gamble the risk of mentioning my thoughts to him. If he avoided me like the plague afterwards, fine. "Anytime you need an ear, Mikagami. I'm here." 

            He looked pensive for a while and  then giving a short nod, he replied in a flat, yet potentially sincere tone, "I appreciate it, Fuuko. But I'm reiterating for the final time, I'm fine." 

            "Just as long as you're happy, comrade, so am I." I didn't miss the vague look he threw at me after hearing what I just uttered. For a moment there, I almost agreed with his observation that I tend to get potentially sentimental sometimes, and that, to me, is somewhat out of character. 

            "Where are we going anyway?" I asked listlessly after fifteen minutes of strolling side by side in silence.

            He smirked. "The amusement park."

            I blinked. "The amusement park? What purposeful business in connection with literature do we hope to accomplish by going there?"

            He shook his head and gave me a reprimanding look. "I can tell you haven't read Yamato's profile. Our next prospect is a BIGWIG in terms of architecture."

            "Oh… yeah. I've read about him. And Tokyo Amusement Center is his latest design, ne?" I queried.

            He nodded. "He also owns it."

            Genuinely impressed, I smiled. "I so wish I could do something like that." 

            "I suggest you stick with weather, Kirisawa." He retorted. "The world does not deserve such cruelty in congruence with achieving an 'amusement center' manufactured by your trying attempts at architecture, wherein 'amusement center' is a euphemism for 'guillotine'." 

            Despite my blood level shooting up, I bared my teeth and told him, "I resent that, Mikagami. But I forgive you if it that characteristic response of yours means you're almost back to your old grouchy self." 

            Five minutes later and we were standing in front of Tokyo Amusement Center. The view was spectacular from the outside. With brick walls that outlined its' territory, a flying buttress from behind and a barrel vault in the entrance to complete its' superb structural design, the place looked inviting. I just couldn't tear my eyes from the construction.

            The crowd behind us, as well as those who fell in line for tickets gushed over the new enterprise.

            "Excuse me. Would you mind taking our picture?" a young feminine voice inquired. I looked down and found a six-year-old girl in braids eagerly handing me a small camera.

            "No problem." I answered cheerfully, taking the machine. "Who are you with?"

            "Um…." She turned beet red, pointing at Mikagami. "Him?"

            Some charisma this guy has. Even six year old girls were not spared from such appeal. Mikagami, who was busy scrutinizing the place as well, turned to us sharply and pronounced, "No." 

            The girl looked crushed. Sticking out her lower lip, she blinked rapidly and tugged at his shirt. "Puhh-leeazze, sir? I've always wanted a big brother, only, I didn't know what he would look like and then I saw you and then I thought I wanted my big brother to be just like him!" Forgetting Mikagami's earlier refusal, she smiled up at him.

            An undecipherable look was etched on his face.

            Supposing this chance never passed again, I seized the opportunity to smile pleasantly at him. "Yeah, come on, _Mi-chan._ "

            He shot me a puzzled look. "What does this have to do with you?"

            Copying his smirk, I said, "Admit it. You don't have the heart to say no."

            "I don't. Not to either of you." He said with a sigh, surprising me by taking the girl's hand and bending down to a sitting position.

            I was still contemplating what he just said when the girl turned to look at me, a smile on her lips. Mikagami looked in my direction as well, eyes crinkling, making my heart beat race, then shook his head and told her, "No, Nako-chan. Miss Kirisawa is not my girlfriend." 

            I blushed and looked away. 

            "I want our picture _HERE_." She dragged Mikagami to a series of flowerbeds, then stopped. 

            "Ok, ready. On three. One, two…" 

            Mikagami's lips curved a little, then he smiled. A real, genuine one. 

            And that's when everything stopped. The air around me took on a life of its own. Charged with electricity, sending thrills up and down my spine. I almost had cardiac arrest then and there, the way my heart pounded against my ribs with a velocity unknown to man. And my hands were shaking so hard, I couldn't press the click button of the camera. 

He had such a lovely smile! It lit up his face, making him seem younger and more handsome (if that was possible). And besides Yanagi, I was probably the first to see it. It disarmed me from its initial appearance. Oh, how I wanted time to freeze just then. 

The girl ran giddily to me, taking her camera and flashing me a charming smile of her own. "Thanks, Miss Kirisawa. My mom's waiting. Sayonara!" she turned to Mikagami, who was walking towards us and blew him a kiss. Waving spontaneously, she disappeared into the crowd.

"Are you alright, Fuuko? You were shaking so furiously a while ago, you almost toppled over." He said, signature smirk attached.

"I… um, forget it. Let's go." 

"We're looking for Yamato-san." I told the desk clerk after being referred to Yamato-sama's office by the lean security guard.

"You are Yakiba-san's students, am I correct? From Tokyo University?" 

I nodded.

"I am sorry, but Yamato-san had an urgent meeting to attend. He left a note for you, apologizing profusely. He asked you to explore the amusement center and tell him what you think of it afterwards. Here are your passes. He'll be back in three hours." He handed me two passes. And unless something was wrong with my vision, he was also doing something with his eyes while smiling furtively at me. Winking profusely, I guess. "Have a nice day!"

We stepped out of the office, feeling the temperature rising after the air-condition was no longer in sight. "So I guess we have three long hours to kill. And you have all the time to bask in my company, tsk, tsk. You were never this lucky." I teased, crossing my arms.

"I have half the mind to leave, Kirisawa. There's something important I have attend to before the day draws to a close."

I frowned, despite of myself. "Then what's stopping you?"

"You." He stated, a-matter-of-factly.

"I beg your pardon?"

He sighed wearily. "Despite the irresistible temptation, Fuuko, I consider it unethical for ladies to be left gallivanting around dangerously public places on their own."

I found it a bit flattering. But shaking my head firmly, I replied, "What's this? You're suddenly treating me like Yanagi. I'm sure I can manage on my own, Mikagami. Now, if you have somewhere to go…"

"That can wait." He said in a tone which implied finality. "Recca and the rest will never forgive me if something happened while I had the chance to protect you."

"Ugh. Fine." I conceded. Then, smiling, I told him, "You're actually using Recca as an excuse to enjoy my company?"

"That is the height of vanity, Kirisawa." He countered.

Soon enough, we had entered the portal of the amusement park. A collection of rides plus the typical carnival music greeted us. The security guard took one look at our passes and waved us in. 

"Oooooh! Roller coaster!!!" I sucked in my breath, pointing to the loops of endless twists and turns to the farthest corner of the right. Raising a hopeful look at my partner, I bit my lip and muttered, "I don't suppose it would be such a hassle if we tried…"

Folding his arms, he _hmmphed. "Why should I? What difference would it make if I stayed here and watched?"_

I thought for a while, and when no excuse seemed plausible, I said, "Because if you don't, you're admitting your inferiority."

He snorted. "So be it."

"Oh, come on, Mikagami! I've never asked for a favor in my entire life." I half-pleaded.

"Fine. If it means that much to you." Surprised at his easily-attained approval, we stepped in line for the roller coaster. Trying to make small conversation, I asked what type of books he favored, managing to squeeze out the information. He was well versed in poetry too, which explained his eloquent delivery of Shakespeare's eighteenth sonnet.

He was giving me a short overview of _Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard _ when our turn came up. 

"Ready, Mikagami?" I asked, sliding the safety gear down my chest.

"Fuuko, if by any chance, I lose my breath and my anatomy becomes disoriented after this ride, I am having your neck, young lady." 

"Oooh, by all means, sir. Do I detect a hint of…fear?"

"No. In point of fact, I've never ridden a roller coaster before." 

"You'll enjoy it." 

No sooner had the words left my mouth when we were hurled into space, and then plunged downwards in a death-defying speed. My heart jumped to my throat as we shot up to heights that resisted gravity, and then immediately dropped down with a narrow, stomach-churning precision.  After what seemed like eternity, the ride slowed down, and a blurred view of the end of the track loomed in front of me. It stopped completely--- and then shot down into motion, this time backwards.

I jumped out of my seat, a hand pressed to my stomach. At the corner of my eye I caught Mikagami—yawning. 

"Well, was that great or what?"

"Highly entertaining." Mikagami told me. "Although at one point it became quite monotonous."

"Can your gut still take it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you still in one piece?" 

"Yes." He answered, glancing dubiously at me. 

So we tried it again. 

I was laughing when we got off the second time. I turned to look at my companion who groaned, "Not again, Fuuko. If we go again, I'll sleep through the entire ride."

Snickering, I shook my head. "I wasn't planning to. I want my digestive system to function properly after today." Then, I unconsciously tugged his sleeve and smiled broadly. "Thank you so much, _Mi-chan_! You know, you can be the best sometimes!"

"It's nothing, Kirisawa." I noticed that while he was saying this nonchalantly, he was looking away.

 "Anything _you_ want to try out?"

 "I suppose it would be expecting too much to find anything intellectually stimulating in this place."

"Your first time?" I asked.

He nodded.

So, we walked around, it pursuit of an activity worth mental perception, all the while engaged in heated discussion of random matches in the one and only UBS. I was astonished to find Mikagami somewhat easy to talk to, and all his statements perfectly logical, which made him a pretty good conversationalist. As a last resort, we headed for the arcades, where there were no matches for intellectually stimulating. A game of combat was suggested instead. Mikagami almost refused, on the account that "he wasn't the least bit interested". After instructing him on the basics, he found it, in his terms, "potentially comical". He was a quick learner, beating me after two tries. A number of rounds later, the match was concluded as a draw. 

"I can't believe it, all my years of training hacked to smithereens by an amateur." I moaned in disbelief. 

He chose to be silent, which I deemed as false modesty.  

"Come on! Let's go see the Haunted House." 

Mikagami coughed. "I'm not entering that contraption, Fuuko." 

Fifteen minutes later, we were cluttered together with a group of five people who were shaking head to foot with obvious unease. I was telling Mikagami about the fuujin's missing orb when the door, flanked by two grotesque gargoyle figures opened to reveal sheer darkness. A piercing scream coinciding with bone-chilling laughter welcomed us. 

Someone cowered in fear, shrinking back and running towards the sunshine.

The rest of us entered. I balled my fist and assured myself that the first person to jump and scare the living daylights out of me would have a taste of unarmed combat. And considering the setting of this place, the 'person' criterion was uncertain.

The trail narrowed until all signs of illumination diminished, and darkness took over. Soon, we entered a tiny entrance where coffins were lined simultaneously against the wall. The coffin burst open suddenly and a decaying corpse sat up, sending a girl screaming for approximately two minutes. 

When she calmed down to a certain degree, we moved on. 

Mikagami stared calmly ahead, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. I suddenly envied his calmness. 

"Still breathing, Kirisawa?" I heard his voice.

"Are we almost…." Then a severed head dropped out of nowhere, right in front of me, dead center. One eye winked maliciously at me.

Losing all principal common sense, that the thing was just a fake, I yelped and ran an amazing speed to the front.

"Boo!" An apparition with a knife thrust into his neck jumped in my way, eliciting a scream from me. Running out of breath, I turned around and ran down the opposite direction jaggedly, ramming into a figure.

"Fuuko. Take it easy." Mikagami said in a soothing voice, so unlike his.

I couldn't help it. Unaware of the tears streaming down my face, I looked up at him. "Oh, Mi-chan," I wrapped an arm tightly around his, not caring what he particularly thought of it. "I want out NOW. This place is giving me the creeps." I answered in a serious voice.

He sighed, and muttering something under his breath, reached out to wipe the tears running down my face with a gentle swipe of his thumb. "You're a funny girl, Kirisawa. Our opponents in the UBS looked a hundred times more repulsive than these pathetic imitations of so-called monsters. You're fortunate no one has ever discovered this weakness of yours."

Amidst the terrible shrills and cries in the background, I tightened my grip on Mi-chan's arm and he had to drag me to the exit, after two ghouls, one vampire and a ware wolf made an appearance. 

"I don't suppose it would be asking too much if I request that you release your death-grip on my arm." He said when I had placed some distance between me and that vile haunted house. We were seated on one of the booths in the ice cream parlor, where we awaited our orders. He bought me the Superbowl Special, while settling for a hot fudge sundae. 

"I'm sorry, Mi-chan." I told him earnestly, letting go of his arm, which had the slightest hint of bruises. "I don't know what came over me, but I really, really loathe those beasts. And hey... I'm sorry I used your arm as…erm… a…"

He waved it away. "No problem. It was worth it, now that I think I'm among the minority who has witnessed you shedding tears."

            I stuck my tongue out at him and stood up suddenly, a serious expression on my face.

            He raised an eyebrow

            "I have to go wee-wee." I answered his silent inquiry.

            "Wee-wee?" His whole impassive demeanor shattered, replaced by the slightest curve of lips and a soft chuckle. "Silly girl."

            I ducked into the rest rooms, feeling good about the fact that I had just extracted a snicker from Mikagami. When I got back, he was all serious again. Over the snack, we talked about the Hokage and what could have turned out of the other Uruha members.      

            We stepped out of the parlor, me in high spirits, while Mikagami glanced at his watch. "It's time." He informed me solemnly.

            I nodded, wearing a serious expression as well. I was glad enough that the opportunity to relax came up, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. 

            The last remaining shards of playfulness disappeared from his face after one last glance in my direction. "I had a good time, Kirisawa." He said and with a slight nod of his head, turned and started walking ahead.

            A revelation dawned on me, leaving me amazed in its' wake. I liked him. I was surprised to know how much when he let his guard down. 

***

            That same night, I glanced up at the darkened sky, counting the constellations that I recognized. This day was one of the most memorable in my life, yet it was coming to an end. I looked quietly at my companion, who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

            Yamato-sama was a stocky man, the type who made you uneasy. He was stern and accurate, not tolerating mistakes. It was quite a relief, once the interview was over. But it was also so arduous…

            "What about that important agenda up your list this morning?" I asked him, as we entered an empty street. 

            Once again I received no answer. Just a sigh.

            He stopped all of a sudden, looking at me. 

            "What?"

            "Something's not right." He answered.

            Then I sensed it. Falling into fighting stance, I turned around just to find a boy running wildly in my direction, a crazed look in his eye. 

            "This is a stick-up, missy! Out with all your money!" 

"What the---" I muttered, ducking a punch. The sicko, who I suspected was not completely clueless when it came to martial arts executed a somersault and a high kick aimed at my shin.

            I was not a Hokage member for nothing. Catching his foot in mid-air, I delivered a hard blow on his gut, drawing out a growl of pain from him. When he crumpled to the ground in pain after I hit his four most sensitive parts, I knew I wouldn't be having any more problems with him.

            Mikagami was having the same luck. And by the time I turned towards him, sweat running down my forehead, he was smirking, an unconscious body laying flat at his feet. 

            Out of nowhere, a hooded ally of our assailants dove in Mikagami's direction, sending him against the wall. He aimed a gun on Mikagami's neck, a malicious smile embedded on his face. "No one moves, no one get hurts." He said in an annoyingly superior voice. "You guys are a big pain in the neck. You've downed my two buddies and you're not getting away with it." 

"You!" He nodded at me. "Empty your pockets." 

            "I leave my valuables at home." I told him coolly.

            "Do what I say, woman, or your boyfriend won't see the light of day." 

            Mikagami chose the moment to jam a knee into the goon's groin, sending him backwards. 

            The goon shot him a murderous look as he scuttled backwards and said in a livid tone, "You'll regret that for the rest of your life, mister." 

            At that moment, everything stopped. I saw the aim, but a second too late.

"No, not Fuuko, damn it!"

 The last thing I heard was Mikagami's voice before unbearable pain shot through my body. 

Sinister laughter filled the air and then everything turned black.


	8. Enough is Enough

Tokiya            Enough is Enough

            She should have ducked out of the bullet's general direction. It would have been perfectly logical to do a back flip or run for the nearest refuge, after seeing the gun aimed straight at your nose. She was always so swift, surely, evading a bullet was no mean feat. The moment she possessed her safety, she should have fled out of the lane and left me to deal with those crooks. 

            Otherwise, she would not be lying here, looking like she had lost all vital signs of life. 

            She angered me. Stupid girl, if only she had been more heedful, if only, when that lout pointed his weapon at my neck, she had not wasted that precious, fleeting moment she could have utilized to escape by looking at me as if she feared for my life… then perhaps I would not be standing here, looking at her and feeling empty. She angered me yet I could not blame her for it.

            I pressed a hand to my temple, suddenly exhausted by the startling proceedings ushered in by the day. The progression of events 2 hours ago played in my mind…

The bullet was released, and I, seeing her collapse to the ground and witnessing the profuse amount of blood gushing out of her shoulder, suddenly blinded by intense rage, held no qualms about beating the crap out of that ruffian. Had she not called my name I would have killed him, and in my haste to get to her, he did what she neglected to do by running away. 

            I assured her of her safety, chastising her for her lack of action. Even in her weakened state she found the strength to stick her tongue out at me. I ripped off a portion of my sleeve, and wrapped it around her shoulder, all the while restraining myself from shaking all over by scolding her. 

            "Mikagami, you're such a nag." she choked out between short breaths, her dark blue eyes clouded by a far-away look. 

            I shivered when she raised a hand and pressed it to my cheek. "I'm not going to die." she said in a brave voice. 

            Her last words. A promise. 

            Which seemed like she had no intentions of keeping. 

            A lump formed in my throat. Unable to prevent myself from doing so, I reached out to take her hand. In the process, a million profanities filled my mind. If I succumbed, I would forever regret this. It was not worth the risk… even Fuuko is not worth the risk. I let my hand fall limply to one side.

            How ironic that on this very day many years ago, Mifuyu passed away. And ever since then I treasured this day as solemn, vowing with mounting zeal that I would give justice to her bereavement by taking the life that in turn took hers. Even when the need was partially satisfied, I kept this day sacred, repressing the tragedy from my mind. This resolve intensified… and was later…

            Distorted by this girl who came along and went the extra mile to show me the existence of the proverbial bright side. The embodiment of joy, charm, beauty and kindness. The first, last, and only girl I have reserved my smile for since Mifuyu's death…

            _What fool you are, Tokiya._

Why _again was I acting so pathetically dismal?_

I should have never let her see through me. If only I had treated her with the same standards I used to measure the world, fate would not have been tempted to veer its head into the picture. At the very least, it should have been my demise, not hers. 

            A slight stir jolted me out of my pensive stupor. Her eyelashes flickered for a moment then parted to reveal glazed shades of cobalt blue.  "M…Mikagami? That you? Where am I?" 

            A wave of relief rushed through my body. Standing up, I ambled to her side from my position by the window. "Did it perhaps occur to you that you lived here, Fuuko?"  
            Her jaw dropped open as she took in her surroundings. "Yeah, but how…."

            "When I carried you to my car, your key fell out of your jacket." I answered curtly.

            Her brow furrowed and she shot me an odd look, before releasing a gasp of pain. Reaching out reflexively to touch her injured shoulder, she stopped as she took in the bandage wrapped around it. Gaze snapping back sharply to me, she mused out loud, "So maybe I'm new to this whole damsel-in-distress business, but tell me, Mikagami… is this your doing too?" she glanced down to indicate her bandaged arm. 

            I snorted. "Of course. There's no one else here to cast the blame on."

            She dropped her gaze. "Why didn't you just leave me on my own?"

            Sighing, I rubbed the back of neck with a hand and carefully weighed my words. "I know you take it upon yourself to hold out when peril strikes, Fuuko, but there are some certain things you have no control of. Forgive me for not letting you bleed to death." I walked to retrieve my coat which was carelessly strewn across a chair. 

            She was silent for a moment, then, as I was on the verge of announcing my departure, she spoke. "Come here, Mi-chan. There's something I want to tell you." 

            _Best to get this over with. I thought with a frown, walking sourly to her side.  _

            She gave me an uncertain look, then genuinely astounded me when she threw _both arms around my waist and embraced me. Her voice was muffled as she spoke, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like an ingrate. It's just that it took some serious ego alarm to actually feel so helpless. But you should know, Mikagami, that many words can not express my thanks." _

            It took extreme ignorance to deny the fact that color was rising to my cheeks, something that I had never felt before. A rare moment it was when someone had enough courage to thank me to my face. A queer feeling enveloped me, something I could not very well articulate, but was extremely pleasurable in its wake.

            "I understand." I managed, as she broke the contact and clenched her shoulder, all the while trying to disguise the pull on her wound with a sober look.

            This girl was bizarre. She had just embraced me, knowing fully well that by doing so, it would strain her injury. And my mind would simply not repress that particular occurrence from memory.

            "I'm leaving, Fuuko."

            I shot her a last glance before turning towards the door. "By the way, your dinner's already been managed. And in case you have the need for painkillers, I left some by the table." I threw the coat over my shoulders and placed an arm through each sleeve. 

            She nodded and gave a half smile. "I'll have to return the favor someday, Mi-chan. Sayonara."

            I nodded and closed the door behind me, reluctantly dragging my feet down the stairs. Something akin to regret coursed through my veins.

            _You're not doing this for her. I reminded myself. _It's just that Recca and the rest would never forgive you if you had left her on her own. __

***

            "Have you heard Kitsune's latest hit single on radio?" 

            "Well, yaaaaahhh, I mean, who hasn't? It's overtly romantic, I so wish it were dedicated to me."

            "Well…. Guess the first person who came to my mind the first time I heard it."

            "No prizes for guessing right. It's Tokiya Mikagami, isn't it?"

            "Am I that transparent?"

            I shuddered. The three people sitting behind me had their backs turned, and were chatting with a precision of words that would transcend the normal human interaction. Appalled at being the sudden focus of a fruitless conversation, I stood up to leave, having completed the required business.

            Why some people used the library as grapevine center irked me. 

            It didn't matter. Thanks to them, I could use the spare time to perhaps check up on Fuuko.

            Students began accumulating after one left the confines of the library. I headed for the corridors caught Fuuko flanked by another girl with green tresses and a rather effeminate guy. 

            "Bye Fuuko!" the rather effeminate guy leaned down and kissed her on each cheek. 

            I glanced away at the open display of affection, feeling strangely relieved that the gesture was executed by a rather effeminate guy.

            The girl threw an arm around Fuuko's shoulders and squeezed… her injured shoulder. "See you later, girl." She said, taking the guy's arm and entering the nearest classroom. 

            Fuuko was grasping her shoulder when I fell in stride with her. 

            "That must have hurt." I remarked.

            "Mikagami." Her blue eyes sparkled as she met mine. "I was just on my way to class."

            "You're haven't completely recovered yet and here you are, acting like you're not suffering from any injuries." I told her.

            "Wow, you sure sound concerned." She said teasingly, eliciting a snort from me. "Exactly what I was aiming to do, disguising the pain. It just triggers ennui, you know, the prospect of lying down for hours and staring at the ceiling. So I figured I'd rather be in class, at least I'd have something else to focus on." 

            "Does it hurt still?" I asked flatly, attempting to deprive my voice of emotion.

            "Hmm….  a little." She answered truthfully.

            We walked a little, and I realized the truthfulness of her statement as she tried to mask the evident pain, one hand still clenching her shoulder.

            "Give me your bag." I stated. 

            "What?" she gaped at me.

            Impatient, I reiterated; "Give me your bag, Fuuko. I'll carry it for you."

            She laughed consciously. "Why? There's no need, Mikagami, I'm totally capable… and in case you haven't noticed, it doesn't exactly match your polo."

            "It doesn't match my polo? You're losing your touch, Fuuko. Drop the alibis." 

            "So…" she crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow at me. "Why exactly are you doing this?"

            _Because I'm accountable to Recca and the others for your welfare. My mind processed the conditioned response, which was a fallacy on top of all fallacies. Did I even need __that excuse to account for something as superficial as carrying her bag for her?_

            I sighed. "Do I have to have a reason for my actions?" 

            She handed me her backpack, grumbling, "You never cease to amaze me, Mikagami." 

            I countered in a dry voice, "Of course, it comes with the package." 

            "Hey. But surprisingly, you're acting a tad bit nicely today. Is there a catch?"

            My mind producing a blank slate, I shook my head and let the question hang.

            Oblivious to the suspicious glances of passersby and our literature  classmates, we entered the classroom. Putting her bag on her desk, she thanked me, to which her gratitude was acknowledged by a short nod of the head. 

***

            "Hey Mikagami, aren't we going to schedule an appointment with our third interviewee today? It's in the itinerary." Fuuko said a few hours later, just as class had ended. She had perched herself on the desk beside mine.   __

             "I'll do it. Go back to your dorm and get some rest." I replied, turning to face her.

            She raised a finger and poked my chest with it. "Hey now, aren't you taking this whole thing a bit too seriously? First of all, I'm not Yanagi. Besides, it's my grade too, you know. I have to work for it."

            "You obviously need a break. I gather you've contributed enough already. The questions, Yamato's write-up, and the third interviewee's profile were all done by you. I'll take it from there." I answered off-handedly.

            "Are you doing this because you pity my present condition?" she asked.

            I snorted. "Of course not. Why would you think I'd be doing it for _you, out of pity or any reason, of all people?"_

            She stuck her tongue out at me. "Are you really, really, really sure you don't need my help _at all_?"

            I glared at her. "I believe I can manage. The absence of a nuisance is always a welcome change."

            She waved a hand in the air. "Fine then. Though this is a little too good to be true. When will I see you again?"

            I was surprised at the question, more at the anticipating tone of her voice. Had it meant that _she _ was looking forward to seeing me?

            She cleared her throat and waved a hand in front of my face after a long period of silence. "Of course…. since you'll have to let me know the time you and Kitsune-san scheduled for the interview, right?"

            "Ah." 

            I raised my glance to meet her eyes, feeling vaguely awkward when I caught her staring at me, head quirked in one direction and a soft smile raising the corners of her lips. Swallowing on impulse, I resorted to gather my wits. 

            Imitating a scowl, I asked, "Why are you staring, Kirisawa?"

            She straightened to her full height suddenly, wiping the smile off her face  and clearing her throat. "Pardon, comrade. For a minute there, you reminded me exactly of someone."

            "Of whom?"

            She shook her head scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "Never mind, Mikagami. I'd look like a mere fool."

            "Fine." In the first place, it was none of my business. 

            She glanced at her watch. "Oh, I gotta go. Catch you later, Mikagami! Bye!" 

            I stared helplessly as she flashed that thousand watt smile of hers. 

            She turned around and started towards the door.

            "Fuuko," I murmured in a soft tone. 

            I'm such a idiot. I already figured out that I cared for her. Though how much was frightening to determine. 

This insanity… there had to be an end to it. There were enough sleepless nights wasted already, tossing and turning, taunted by the image of her beautiful face. Enough of the laughter escaping my throat and smiles tugging up the corner of my lips in her presence; enough of the heart racing, and no more of those idiotic blushes. I've spent too much time indulging in this fantasy, and before everything else gets complicated, I believe I am bringing myself to the final halt. And just in case it slips from my memory, I have done nothing good in my life to deserve her.  

***


	9. In My Dreams

**Fuuko**                   In My Dreams****

             Humming slightly, I stood in front of the full-length mirror and took a deep breath. Light blue denims that ended at the knees, a sleeveless white shirt and sneakers were the order of the day. I flipped my bangs backwards and looked away, feeling a slight pang of ennui. Wardrobe, shchmardrobe. If Yukino critics it, I'd just duck out of his way. 

            Catching my eye was the poem which I had carefully scoured my files and forgotten whatnots for. Sighing, I held up the almost yellow sheet in one hand, my eyes unconsciously gliding over the carefully scribbled script. Nodding, I tucked it gently into the manila envelope I had reserved it for. 

            When Mr. Yakiba asked us to compose a poem, my first notion was to go to the library and concoct something lyrical about… perhaps rainbows or sunsets. But I'd just remembered I _had_ written a poem somewhere in this lifetime, and it was probably just lying around the heaps of papers and junk in my closet. I'd written it just as I made my prelude to youth, some good four years ago. 

            It was dedicated to a special person. A special person I had not yet met at that time. And who knows… for a literature assignment, it might have a shot at a good grade.

***

            Later that day, it was Yukino with his routine one o'clock nag.

            "You must be partially blind. Which would be good because it accompanied your injured shoulder. When are you _ever going to see that you mean something to Mr. Personality? It's been five months now, and I'm getting impatient. Since there has been no development, nothing to get me excited,  I've taken it upon myself to at least make you realize your true feelings." He let out a frustrated sigh and bit his lip. _

            "I've got a class. If you're planning to do a case analysis on my _true feelings_, I suggest you consider the time and place." I said, grinning. 

            "I suggest you consider the time and place." He mimicked in a falsetto tone, eliciting a giggle from me. "The time? Well, it's been like eternity, Fuuko, and the place… well I don't know. At this rate, you'll be sitting at some forsaken home for the aged center when you finally realize that you do love Mikagami." 

            I crossed my arms and tapped my foot. "Love? Yukino, this _thing  you're trying to pull… maybe it would work in another lifetime.  It's hopeless, everybody knows it but you."_

            "If it's so hopeless… and if it's true that you have no feelings for Mikagami, then why'd you write a poem for him?"

            I balled my hands into fist and stopped walking when we reached the entrance to my next classroom. "Oh, for crying out loud, Yukino, I did not write a poem FOR Mikagami! Who told you to read that anyway?" I snatched the manila folder from his grip. "It was a mistake, okay? I felt whimsical, I was young and naïve, I wrote a poem for someone… if I was going to meet that person… who'd touch my life in a special way. And I had no inkling Mikagami existed back then._ If I had then I would never have written that nuisance to begin with."_

            The look in his eyes differed. From surprise to slight fear back to shock and now….

            He looked triumphant. "Um, that last sentence. Run it by me again."

            It flashed into my mind like a neon light. Turning pale and aghast, I stomped my foot. "Oh, you heard me."

            "Yeah. _If I had then I would never have written that nuisance to begin with. Something like that. In other words, I regret falling in love with you." He smirked._

            Annoying, annoying. This was downright humiliating. Way to go, Fuuko. Suppressing the wild urge to knock the guy off his feet… I placed both fists on my hips. "I'm late."

            He chuckled gleefully. "And I am right." He let out a cry of triumph and started dancing around the halls. "Woohoo! Finally! My attempts to match make are not in vain! Soon, he'll confess his love and you two will be married by midnight!" He grabbed both my shoulders and looked me happily in the eye. 

            "Who…"

            At the sound of the new voice, Yukino jumped five feet into the air, screeching hysterically. When he landed on the ground, we both found Mikagami looking like he'd gone through seven stages of rock formation. Still as a statue and glaring menacingly at both of us.

            Yukino smiled one-hundred percent sugar. "The guy she's in love with, of course." 

            I jabbed an elbow into his ribs, causing him to yelp in pain. "Hold your tongue."

            Mikagami's gaze moved towards me and the terms "laser shooting out" suddenly became very clear. Undaunted, I lifted an eyebrow and looked him squarely in the eye. 

            "Do get out of my way, Kirisawa." He demanded, each word pronounced  with what seemed like rasps. 

            I curtsied mockingly and removed myself from my current stance. He literally stormed past me. 

            Yukino blew a kiss in his direction and waved spontaneously. "Bye! Have fun in class!" 

            "Um…. Yukino, are you insured?" I asked in a sarcastic tone.

            "No. Why?"

            _Because I'm wondering who's going to raise funds for your funeral. _

            I took a deep breath, bared my teeth at him and stomped off to my seat. My lit classmates threw amused glances in my direction. Mr. Yakiba began collecting assignments. When he came to my aisle, he glanced at the manila folder, chuckled slightly, glanced at _someone_ behind me, and then back at me with a mysterious glint in his eyes. He'd been in the classroom long enough before I entered… and that particular glint could mean… a feeling of cold dread washed over me. It could mean that he might have heard--- and that he knew.

***

            Noooooo. This was a nightmare in the making. 

            I glared daringly at the clock through clenched teeth. _This is not funny. Drop the joke and go back two hours to the proper time. _

_            The stupid clock did not budge at my threat! Which only meant, it truly was six in the afternoon._

            Panicking, I jumped out of bed and tried to stop myself from hyperventilating. I should have thought of putting on the alarm before taking the much needed nap! But then again, I was dead beat. 

            Okay, back to the present. I had an appointment. Otherwise I wouldn't be running around like a chicken with her head cut off. I swallowed. I would be in that condition after Mikagami set his eyes on me…. tonight. 

            _Prepare to die, Fuuko._ I muttered as I pulled the closet handle open and began to throw out prospective outfits onto the bed. I shuffled hastily through the hangers, trying to find something appropriate. _Too bright, I winced at the sight of a yellow dress. _You'd resemble a banana, which is just as well since all you're going to catch up on at this rate is dessert. _Scowling, I set my eyes on something green. __It's too darn short! On the contrary, it'd go well with the puke the guests and Mikagami will throw up once they lay their eyes on you._

_            I almost yelled out in aggravation. When did I start buying these things? I cringed as blurs of polka-dots, ruffles and laces paraded my sight. __Oh, there has to be something decent in here… _

            Just as I had started to lose all hope, a spaghetti-strapped red dress caught my eye. I pulled it out for further scrutiny. It ended just above my knees and looked rather…. charming. Sending a quick thank you to the heavens, I busied myself with getting dressed in the shortest time possible. 

***

            Great, just what I needed. Another reason for Mikagami to break my ear drum.          I just had to be late for the final interview.

            I slammed the car door close and took off for the flight of steps leading to the five star hotel where I was due some thirty minutes ago. _I should have tried out for track and field, _I thought as I sprinted, ducked and wove in and out of people's way. 

            Not exactly the entourage and first impression I was hoping for. I squeezed myself into the elevator just as it was about to close in my face. _With all this rushing… everyone's probably going to think I look… _I arched an eyebrow at the bad pun. _dashing._

_            I got off at the fifth floor. What greeted me was such a sight, it took my breath away. A wide hall with marble tiles and rows of chandeliers greeted my sight. Round tables were clothed with immaculate white and adorned with expensive looking china. And bordering each side of the room were rows of buffet, graced with the rarest of delicacies. Against the tables were full length glass windows partly concealed by navy blue drapes. An orchestra was in the middle of rendering a piece by Chopin._

            I wandered into the room, eyes glazed. 

            Eventually, a coughing sound broke my reverie and a voice spoke from behind me.

            "You really believe in the philosophy 'better late than never', don't you? This is already the nth time, Kirisawa." 

            That voice. I'd recognize it anywhere. I spun around, and true to my expectations, _the Tokiya Mikagami was looking at me from behind an elaborately festooned table, blue eyes blazing._

            I could do it. I could act against my will and pretend he did not look adorable in coat and a bowtie. Instead… maybe I could project someone else in the suit. Someone like…. Kouran Mori. 

            Summoning my acting prowess I walked gingerly to the seat across him and eased myself into it. "I'm sorry. I was resting ---"

            "Spare me." He looked me squarely in the eye as he spoke. 

            He was never this cold. Something was up. The last time he was like this, it was his sister's death anniversary…  

            Today, though, I have no plans of finding out. 

            "So, where's the interviewee?" I asked casually, raising a glass of water to my lips. 

            He did not answer.

            Tempted, I snuck a peek at him. He was surveying the salt shaker like it was the most fascinating thing on earth.

            Oh, and I was supposed to be attracted to this person? 

            One last attempt at a civil conversation. "Have you eaten already?"

            He shook his head.

            "Why not? Dieting all of a sudden? I don't see how anyone would like to starve." 

            He rolled his eyes. 

            My nostrils flared. At this point, I would have preferred talking to a paper towel, at least the chances for interactivity were greater.

            "Hello. I suppose you are Miss Kirisawa and Mr. Mikagami." A man in his mid-forties appeared before us, dressed in a white tuxedo. He flashed us a 50 karat smile. "I apologize if I kept you waiting. Hordes of fans were begging for my autograph."

            Momentarily forgetting we were giving each other silent treatment, I leaned towards Mikagami and whispered. "Who's this guy?"

            He raised a brow and muttered in a bored tone. "Our interviewee."

            "I'm Kitsune. Nice to meet you." He extended a gloved hand at me, winking twice. 

            Forcing a smile I shook his hand. "Fuuko. It's my pleasure, Kitsune."

            "Ahh. Thank you for coming tonight. You will have a chance to evaluate my music a few minutes from now. I'm a singer and songwriter, that is my profession. And I'm honored that two seemingly fine students from Tokyo University have chosen me out of a hundred eligible artists to interview." He said. 

            Dinner started, and Kitsune did all the talking for us. 

            "Hmm…. are you two usually this quiet? It's been fifteen minutes and the void of silence has not been filled with voices from either one of you." He mumbled, sipping champagne from a fluke. "Was dinner a pleasure?"

            "Oh yes."

            "Remarkably so." said he, vanishing my presumptions of laryngitis. 

            "Mr. Mikagami and Miss Kirisawa, can I interest you on a dance? The program is scheduled twenty minutes from now."

            Mikagami refused politely and I found myself agreeing with him. Kitsune left us to each other's company. Suddenly nervous for no reason at all, I decided to keep my eyes on the dance floor which was starting to fill with people. A twist was played by the orchestra and I found myself smiling and clapping as I watched. 

            The person seated behind Mikagami spun around and began whispering to his ear. I could catch snippets of their conversation. "No." Mikagami replied. The man sighed and whispered what appeared like a threat.  

            Mikagami grumbled and stood up. 

            "What?" I demanded as the target of my ire appeared at my side. "You're obscuring my view."

            He cleared his throat. "You will join me for a dance. That is not a request."

            The man behind Mikagami let out a loud, audible groan.

            "Excuse me? If you think I'll throw myself at your feet, this is your wake up call." I replied.

            "I never said that. Don't make this difficult."

            I frowned, crossed my hands over my chest and looked away from him. 

            That's when the woman behind me started whispering animatedly in my ear. "It's impolite to refuse, my dear."

            "Then I'll refuse _politely." I shot back._

            "My dear child, like the young man has said, don't be difficult. Besides it's only one song."

            Grumbling, I got to my feet and took his outstretched hand, letting him lead me to the dance floor.

            "I don't know how to dance." I announced in a bored tone.

            "Link your hands behind my neck." He said.

            I did.

            He placed his hands on my waist, gently and started swaying me back and forth. "Inform me if I'm causing you any discomfort."

            Sometimes it was not hard to understand why I liked him so much.

            He drew me closer, letting my head rest on his chest. I sighed contentedly, forgetting everything but the feeling of being in his arms.

            Only Mi-chan could do this to me. Make me feel like floating on air, and at other intervals, making me want to kill him. I could hear his heartbeat--- it was rather… fast. 

            The song ended. 

            He sighed and bowed to his waist. "I apologize, Fuuko. For everything." 

            I turned my attention to him. "What does that mean?"

            "Exactly what I said." 

            He turned his back. And I didn't see him again for the rest of the evening.

***

            It was inevitable. He was avoiding me. Somehow, after all those months wasted on getting to know him better and becoming friends  (I think), he suddenly found it necessary to stay out of my way.

            I greeted him in school, he'd nod like usual and walk past me except that his ears were tainted red. When I passed by, he'd look away and pay heed to his admirers when normally, he wouldn't so much as look at them. I tried inviting him for dinner, but he promptly turned it down due to previous engagements. 

            Maybe it was better this way. I was a such a fool. 

            I felt like banging my head against a wall. Why did I let myself get attracted to him and go as far as fall for him? 

            _Don't be dense. Mi-chan's the embodiment of intelligence. You were too obvious…_

            That was probably why he was avoiding me. Because he knew.

            Even if I didn't stare at him for hours, throw myself at his feet, call him persistently, give him gifts like his other fan girls, approach him just to bask in his presence and tail him around town, he must have figured out somehow.

            But was I that _loathsome that he'd have to resort to avoiding me…  _

            I sighed and stared out at the rolling waters. Fine. You knew you'd get hurt in the end, at least have the courage to bail yourself from this mess. 

***

            "It's been my privilege to handle a class like yours. It is with deepest regret that I inform you that today is our last meeting. Before dismissing you, may I request you meet with your partners and exchange final words." Mr. Yakiba was saying. No sooner had he stopped talking when people started flinging themselves  on each other.

            "Asuka! It's been a pleasure working with you!"

            "As they said, Yuki, all good things must come to an end."

            "Mina, where are you going for the break?"

            "Tokiya, you really are one heck of a poetic dude, man. It's been a pleasure." 

            One classmate hurled herself at me. "Fuuko, you've been such a blessing. Thanks for lending me your notes." 

            "Anytime." I replied, smiling as well. 

            "Fuuko. You are a remarkable student! I bid you well in your course." Mr. Yakiba shook my hand after congratulating Mikagami. 

            "Thank you, sir. I have learned a lot from your class. And I hope our paths cross again next semester."

            "Certainly, my dear."

            "Now, if you'll excuse me, sir, I have some things to attend to back in the dorm."

            He furrowed a brow. "Aren't you going to talk to Tokiya?"

            I glanced at my ex-partner who was presently engaging in small talk with Takiro, a classmate. "My agenda is quite important, sir. I'm sure Mr. Mikagami would understand." 

            He gave me an indecipherable look. "I don't mean to impose, but what, exactly, is your agenda, Miss Kirisawa?"

            "I have to fix my things, sir. I'm scheduled for a flight tomorrow afternoon." 

            "Can't it wait, madam? It seems like Tokiya is ready to have a word with you." 

            I caught Mikagami looking in my direction before he abruptly glanced away. Sighing, I nodded at Mr. Yakiba. "Then I'd better bid him farewell." 

            I excused myself and walked to Mikagami's direction, heart racing with each step. _Relax Fuuko, the tingling sensation should be gone. You're in the healing phase now._

            "Hello." I put on my cheeriest smile.

            He look surprised as he turned to me. "Fuuko? Yes. I was just about to leave." Why was he looking everywhere but at me.

            "Same here. I just wanted to say, Mikagami, it was a pleasure working with you." 

            "You were tolerable yourself, Fuuko." 

            Oh how the shears on Mr. Yakiba's table looked inviting to touch, much more used on human flesh. A few moments of silence passed by. Feeling a little watched, I glanced over my shoulder. 

            "Ahem… as I mentioned, my subjects next semester include…"

            "Um… I'm going to Kyoto for the short break." 

            "I feel like crying. This was my favorite class." 

            "I've really enjoyed working with you."

            "At first, I thought you were a pain in the neck, but you're really a great girl after all."

            "Can I have your cell phone number, please? Though we're not partners anymore, we can still be friends, right?"

            I turned my attention back to Mikagami. A pang of nostalgia hit me. 

            "Well then, I guess this means goodbye." I said hastily, trying to blink back tears.          

            He sneered. "Whatever."

            "You could at least exert some effort to be polite. But I guess that would be expecting too much." I turned around, annoyed at the tear that threatened to fall  from my eyes.

            "You won't be needing me anymore. Regards to the one you love." He said bitterly.

            "I beg your pardon?" I asked dumbly.

            "Yes, the one you love_." He answered in a biting tone. "He who allegedly confessed his love." _

            Sarcasm.         

            Great. Thank you, Yukino for the humiliation. And how nice of Mikagami to rub in the fact that he already knew I loved him. Like it didn't hurt enough already. He had to taunt and make a cruel joke out of it. 

            There was once a time four years ago, you know how every girl dreamed about this handsome prince to come sweep them off their feet? I knew it was ridiculous, but at one point in time I believed in it and somewhere in the middle of all this he had resembled… the annoying ogre standing In front of me. I even wrote that stupid poem for him. But he was never truly mine just like Mi-chan was never going to be. I rolled my eyes. _That's first love for you, Fuuko._

            I glared at him for all he was worth and uttered my final words. "It's none of your business. Stay out of it. I really hate you, Mikagami." 

A.N.

Yes, I'm aware of the long time that has passed. And I'm really really sorry, I won't give an excuse. But to make up for it, I finished two chapters. J

Chapter 7, I revised the last part. Thank you, Dark Phoenix for pointing that out. I never would have noticed.

Chapter 10 will be the last.


	10. Once and For All

Tokiya                Once and For All

            Hate is such a strong word.

            And the last thing I needed was to be reminded of the context in which it was used. I strode past the umpteenth person in that room who asked if I was okay, not bothering with a response. Mr. Yakiba wore a contrite look on his face as I passed him.

            I felt like a finalist for 'Imbecile of The Year'. What I said earlier was completely detached from my calm aura, an invitation for her to write me off as the first person in her hate list.

            Disgusted, I quickened my pace. Blurred images of faces, mahogany walls and marble tiles flashed across my vision. Reaching for the metal bars on the main door, I yanked it open and stepped outside, feeling steam rise from my insides.

            _Was this not what you wanted?_ I asked myself mockingly. _You resolved to keep your distance because you thought you'd be saving yourself a lot of grief, and now that you've become the target of her abhorrence, you should be congratulating yourself because as of now, you're officially out of her life. _

            I replaced the absent urge to pat myself on the back with the notion of kicking myself. _Congrats, she hates you. _

_            Forcing myself to calm down, I inhaled deeply, feeling a light and gentle breeze graze my skin. Grateful for the small amount of calmness it brought, I allowed myself to delve into the recurring question pressing into my mind. _

            _What are you going to do now?_

            The customary "ice mask", labeled by none other than Fuuko herself, seemed like the only logical solution. Simply don it on, and steel myself for the next twenty years of my life. By the second year the words "human interactivity" will have permanently vanished from my vocabulary. Be hostile particularly to violet-haired girls with suspiciously disarming smiles. Wait—scratch that, Fuuko's one in a million. Be hostile to the world. You mind your own business, they mind theirs. 

            Wonderful.

            _Any more grand ideas, Tokiya?_

            This—episode should not be grating my nerves. I should have muttered "Good riddance" and vanished the memory of whatever persistent insanity taking place the last five months. She probably wasn't moping as much as I was, in fact, she was probably not moping at all.

            My intuition was that she was probably in lover boy's arms, seeking comfort and solace. Not exactly a pleasant thought. 

            Something brewed inside my chest, enough to make me want to find that annoying nuisance and dismantle his body parts. 

            Procrastination was never something I wanted to identify myself with. Dropping my shoulders from their stiff position, I conceded that it would adequately fit the current situation.__

_                                                                        ***_

            This day was bringing out the worst in me.

            "If I remember correctly, you said you had revised the original draft." I lowered my voice which was threatening to shot up to a thousand decibels.

            The receiver on the other end of the line swallowed audibly. "I did, Mikagami, but---- well---- I-----" he sputtered. "Something came up….?"

            I bit my tongue to prevent from lashing out. "I have other priorities that do not include bailing you out of whatever mess you have created."

            "Mikagami, if you would just pass by the coffee shop right now. I'm just wrapping up the rushed version. It won't take long. Just go through it. Once from you will be enough." 

            To add to my present headache, the line went dead. Swiftly pocketing the cellular phone, I retraced my steps and slipped into the coffee shop. As soon as I walked through the glass doors, Nobunaga stepped up and handed me a stack of papers, smiling sheepishly.

            Appeal to pity never worked on me. I raised an eyebrow and slammed the sheets on the nearest table, using my hand as paperweight and letting my eyes glide over the page. 

            I felt him take a step back. "So, will it pass for okay?" He asked nervously. 

            "It's too condescending." I answered scornfully, reaching for my pen and encircling a paragraph in the middle. "Modify this."

            Without a word more, I turned for the glass doors. Someone was surely playing a hoax on me, for standing in the entrance was none other than Fuuko, hands behind her back. Her face knotted in astonishment when she saw that I was on my way out. 

            I threw the door open effortlessly and stepped out into the warm sunshine. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked nonchalantly as I passed her. I shook off the inquiry and continued my pace when she made another comment. "I just asked a question."

I stopped walking but refused to face her. "I thought you said you hated me."

"I don't deny that." 

"It would follow that you loathe my presence." I remarked. 

"In terms that defy gravity." she snapped back.

Defeated, I scowled. "Then this conversation is futile." 

            I continued walking, feeling my breath grow shorter and faster. It was so rare when I felt a surge of emotion, and misery was a burden to contain. A flash of red caught my eye as I walked past her. A blur which was unmistakably a bouquet of red roses.  

So, I was right. She already had a shoulder to cry on.

                                                                        ***

            It was almost eight in the evening when I finished packing for my trip home (after getting an excited call from Ganko and not having the heart to refuse, even in my current disposition) when I heard a chain of knocks on the front door. 

            Dragging myself to the living room, I unlocked the door and instantly regretted doing so when I saw Seita's face, grinning like a chimpanzee.

 "So…" I droned in an interest-devoid tone. 

            Seita nodded. "All set for your trip tomorrow?"

            "I don't feel like chatting." I muttered bluntly.

            "Typical Mikagami response." He chuckled. "In a few minutes you will be. There's a visitor in the lobby waiting for you. A Mr. Yakiba, one of your professors."

            This late? I thought. It must be urgent. Suddenly thrown into a pensive stupor, I attempted to shut the door when Seita inserted his foot in. "Not so fast, Mikagami. The red roses you ordered arrived a while ago."

            "What?"

            Seita chortled and pumped his eyebrows up and down, adding another level of hatred to my growing exasperation. "Roses which were selected as a token of appreciation for a certain partner in literature?"

            My eyes narrowed to slits to emphasize my mounting temper. "I canceled the order." 

            "Huh? Why?"

            I raised an eyebrow and felt saw him back away awkwardly. "Oh…" He mumbled feebly, taking one more step backwards.

            I recognized his attempt to sprint and stepped in front of him to prevent him from doing so. "So, where are the flowers?" I asked inanely.

            He gulped and I noticed a profuse amount of sweat pouring down his forehead. "I…" he closed his eyes. "delivered them to her myself. Thought I'd spare you the trouble, you know. I even placed your name on the card attached." 

            Dumbfounded and immensely furious, I turned around and headed for the stairs. The roses I saw her holding a while ago, were they from me? Taking a deep breath to pacify my anger, I told him through gritted teeth, "We'll talk later." 

            "Um, Mikagami, she says arigato for the flowers."

            I grunted in reply, feeling a sharp throb spreading throughout my forehead. 

            Mr. Yakiba was sprawled on one of the recliners with a poem anthology lying open in one hand. He looked up from the book and stretched, removing his glasses and blinking rapidly to abate the strain from too much reading under a dim light. "Tokiya." He acknowledged my presence with a nod. "I hope I'm not intruding or causing any inconvenience."

            "Not at all, sir." I replied, although only half-true.

            He nodded and drew out a manila envelope from the briefcase lying at his feet. "I don't make a habit out of invading my students' residence. But I wanted to return this immediately, hearing that you will be leaving tomorrow afternoon. These are works you have submitted throughout the semester." I took the envelope from him, slid the stack of papers out of their case and glanced at the poem I had constructed. Written in red ink was a perfect grade. 

            I shuffled through my other works, including the interviews which had obtained a high grade and found a light blue envelope which certainly did not belong to me. Turning it over, I recognized Fuuko's penmanship centered on front. "I'm afraid this was misplaced, sir." I said dryly, handing it back to him.

            Mr. Yakiba smiled cheekily, not making any attempts to retrieve the small sachet. "There's no mistake, Tokiya. Miss Kirisawa wrote this poem for you. I am returning it to the rightful owner." 

            Dubious, I placed it on top of the envelope. "Mr. Yakiba, how certain are you that I am the recipient of this poem?" 

            "You'll just have to take my word for it." He reached for his hat and placed it over his balding head, tipping it slightly. "Now if you will pardon me, Tokiya. My wife is expecting me. Oyasumi nasai."

            I heard his footsteps subside and shortly after, an engine roared to life and eventually subsided as the car careened out of the parking space and into the dark night. 

            My attention was drawn back to the light blue envelope which had involuntarily aroused my curiosity. Taking the flight of stairs which led to my room, I threw open the door and headed for the small library next to my room. I switched on the lights and eased myself into the vinyl chair behind the immaculate oak desk. The familiar sight of my laptop greeted me. 

              I laid the envelope next to the laptop, and took out Fuuko's poem. The paper had already turned yellow at the sides, and the handwriting was partly smudged. Readable nonetheless. 

            I held up the paper, noticing the date written on the upper left portion. The letter was dated four years back. She had not known me yet, how could she have possibly dedicated it to me? Ridding my mind of impending questions, I adjusted the lamp on my desk and proceeded to read. 

_Dearest, _

_            I have always laughed at the prospect of falling in love. I have waved away notions of tingling sensations and warm feelings and dismissed these as insanities. I just clicked my tongue as I watched lovers pass by, thinking that whatever "magic" there was that made it last was not perpetual. When I see that glazed, distant look on a lover's eyes as they watch the person who holds their hearts, I roll my own. It's not that I have anything against romantic love, I just didn't think it would happen to me, much less in this lifetime. I certainly cannot call to memory having done anything that deserves this… emotion, this "love" they call that ensures pure bliss. _

_            But the fact that you're reading this letter, together with the poem attached proves I am altogether wrong. _

_            I wrote this poem some time when I probably haven't met, seen or had any inkling what you looked like. Or I had probably known you but had no clue that you were the one who'd change the course of my life. It might feel weird receiving a poem from a girl, when society sets norms the other way around. In that case, just take it as a token of my gratitude, the prospect alone of meeting you has meant so much to me, that this poem was written to keep the feeling preserved. _

_            The words, the rhymes, the implication behind each stanza are all mine. In point of truth, it was not easy composing this, but I was inspired by the thought that it would be dedicated to a very special person, and that pushed me on. What it really means is that YOU are the paradox, the mystery I've been trying to solve after hearing **so many testimonies from friends, acquaintances and having read from it in books. You changed my view of love so that in the end I fell victim to the thief of hearts—the very emotion I ran away from, and that is, love.**_

_            Thank you for coming. A thousand words cannot articulate how much you mean to me, but this poem is a shot. I'm unaware of how much time passed since I composed this and now that you've received this letter; it may be a week, a month, a year or even longer . But regardless of time, this poem and it's trying attempts at passing for lyrical was written especially for you._

_            It's yours to keep, or yours to throw. What is important is that I got it through to you that you are someone I consider dear and precious, enough to drive me to write a poem and preserve it till the day it falls to your hands. _

_Sincerely,_

_Fuuko _

**_The Paradox of Attraction_**

_It happened some time in the month of May_

_Queer and mysterious, intriguing to some_

_A rather strange case to be presented, they say_

_For the damage was yet to be done_

_Unbeknownst to all, a villain was loose_

_And he specialized in striking the heart_

_In speculation he led many to muse_

_On his victims he left hardly a mark._

_The witnesses said t'was emotion _

_That had stirred in them quite an uproar_

_It might be the proverbial love potion_

_For love had just knocked on their door_

_The issue was plain and simple_

_An epidemic so widespread as the flu_

_And with it an accomplice so noble_

_Which over time captured hearts tried and true_

_So what is this mystery that drove many hearts baffled?_

_And the mind so it no longer knew?_

_And in the end if you get puzzled_

_Can the paradox be solved by you?_

_You see, my love, my heart, too was stolen _

_By that thief in the month of May out of the blue_

_Love was the culprit of whom many have spoken_

_And its accomplice was you._ __

                                                                                                ***

            It was not bad, considering a fourteen-year-old had written it. 

            It was I who had it bad. 

            Shaking my head at the fool that I had turned out to be, I resolved to contact her first thing in the morning. I owed Fuuko an apology.

                                                                                                ***

            _Where the heck is she? _

I still had that 4 p.m. flight to catch, for crying out loud. I laid down the carefully wrapped present on the couch and brushed the bangs from my face, steeling myself from a rare, sudden outburst of fury. I always kept my cool, ordinary predicament or not. 

_I just hate it when she does that--- waste my precious time._

But then again, I was the one who showed up unannounced so it was not in my position to complain. As I began pacing down the lobby of her dormitory in futile attempt to abate my temper, I caught the attention of the desk clerk, who threw me an amused glance and asked if she could help.

            "It's been two hours, that's enough test of patience." She said as I neared the front desk. The entire building was eerily quiet, presumably due to the intense desire to take advantage of the short break, which officially began today.

             I sighed in exasperation. "I wish to talk with Miss Kirisawa, if she's in."

            The girl's green eyes widened slightly and she reached for the phone. "Your business must be important, if not urgent,  seeing that it's worth two hours of waiting."

            "It is." I assured her.

            She held up a palm and spoke into the receiver. "Third floor? Right. Could you please check on Fuuko Kirisawa?" she paused.  "What? She's not around?" she listened for a while before replacing the receiver back onto its hook. "This is terrible. I'm sorry, but Fuuko left 30 minutes before you came in."

            Feeling like an anvil had just weighed down on my shoulders, I turned towards the door to hide my disappointment.

            The last words of the woman rang in my ear. "She left for the airport."

                                                                                    ***

            _She's leaving._

_            My mind replayed the phrase for the millionth time as I hailed a cab, duffel bag in tow. _Serves you right for speculating she'd be sleeping in for the entire day. _The cab had barely stopped when I threw open the door of the backseat, tossed my bag in and folded myself into a seating position. Informing the driver of my destination, I looked out the window and sighed. _

            It wasn't entirely my fault. She should have at least notified me of her decision to leave. Granted that, I wouldn't have spent two hours of my life looking like a complete fool, waiting for her to make an appearance, which she never did. The question bounced back at me with an accusing force: Could she have, with me avoiding her like a rare plague?

            Stressed from not producing a credible answer to that question, I leaned back against the leather-sheathed seat and closed my eyes. There was no other choice but to board that.

            My hands groped the unopened package beside me, the gift intended for her. I had spent half the morning scouring bookstores for "The Catcher in The Rye", after recalling her incessant badgering on the plot and characters of the book. It was one of the things she didn't have to tell me, yet I sensed that she would like to have. In the process I think I overdid myself, buying chocolates to go with the book.

            It would have to pass for a peace offering.

            The cab skidded to a halt. Looming in front of me were massive buildings and a wide lot that was the airport. I paid my fare and reached for my bag.

            A couple of steps into the tall glass doors sent me grumbling as a uniformed guard poked my bag for inspection. Standing there impatiently, arms folded, I felt  a sudden weight on my shoulder. I spun around and found Mr. Taketa smiling at me.

            "Konnichiwa." I intoned lifelessly.

            "Ahh, Tokiya. What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here? Are you with Fuuko?" He let out a jolly laugh and winked at me.

            I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Wishful thinking did not answer his question so the truth would suffice. "Apparently, I'm boarding a plane." And one would have to be blind not to know the answer to the second question.

            "And I just got off one. If you're looking for Fuuko, I just had a conversation with her thirty minutes ago. Poor girl looked affronted, recently discovered her trip was scheduled four o'clock." He said pleasantly, patting my shoulder.

            My eyebrows raised and I excused myself, took my bag and paced hurriedly towards the departure area. My eyes scanned the rows of seats for any sign of her, which surprisingly, with the way my luck was going, was approved. A naughty smile played on my lips as I sauntered over to her direction, the smirk immediately replaced by a deep scowl as I realized she was seated in front of a suspended television, whose volume was set to test your ear drum's stamina. 

            Fuuko, at this point decided to look and dress like a girl, though not the first time, and looked refreshingly beautiful in a black sleeveless turtleneck and slacks, even from behind. Her back was turned to me, and flaunting a look that screamed bodily harm at the google-eyed "spectators" three rows behind, I slid noiselessly to the seat next to her.   

            _"That's why my wash is brighter!!!" _a toothy actress declared in deafening enthusiasm. 

            Oh joy. And here it was, time to take the plunge. 

            "There's something you need to know before you board that plane." I said in a measured tone. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. _Idiot! _I thought in horror as the meaning of my speech sank in. All my life I've never said anything within ten miles radius of the word corny. 

            Fuuko kept her silence. Either she didn't hear me over the blaring noise of the t.v. or she was purposely holding back a response because she was still irked at me.

            I sighed and with one smooth gesture, eliminated one of my problems, noting with satisfaction the immediate silence that ensued. The t.v. presented a blank screen.

            Returning to my seat, I unzipped my bag and produced the present. I held it out for her to take. "Yours. A notion of my gratitude, as well as my apology." 

            She made a soft snore, which triggered me to stand up and peer at her face, something which if I had accomplished earlier would have saved both of us a lot of  trouble.

            My suspicions confirmed, I sank back to my seat, both relieved and thwarted. I was about to leave the gift where she would conveniently find when she woke up, when something on her lap caught my eye.

            I would have to scold her for leaving her valuables, as well as her luggage unattended. The bright flash of white on her lap was apparently her ticket. A rare, mischievous look was had presented itself on my face.  

            Leaving the gift gently on her lap, and the ticket on top of the gift, I stretched myself to my full height and distanced myself from her. This trip would not be so boring after all.         

                                                                                     ***

            I was holding a cup of steaming coffee, positioned on one of the stilted tools of the airport's coffee shop with an open newspaper in one hand when I heard her distinct voice.

            "Mi-chan!"

            I spun the stool around one-eighty degrees, miraculously avoiding any collision with the cup. _Fuuko? A rushing figure appeared at the farthest end of my view, rushing towards me with a speed not thought to exist. _

            My jaw dropped open as I took in her tear-stained face and wide blue eyes. She was now standing in front of me, gasping for breath. I let one swift, meaningful glare sweep around the room, which triggered people to ensue whatever business was momentarily postponed by her loud yelp. 

            "What are you doing here?" I asked warily, folding the paper in half before dropping it next to my cup of coffee. 

            She rolled her eyes and inched closer. "I woke up with a start after your magnificent speech. Naturally, I saw where you went and the rest is history." Without any regard for what I would think, she threw her hands easily around my neck and let out a small sob. "You are such an idiot. Are you alright? For a moment there you had me worried sick. What were you thinking, running into the street like a maniac? It's very uncharacteristic of you."

            My mind continued to reel from her touch. I gritted my teeth but encircled an arm around her shoulder, drawing closer. "What are you talking about? The last person I saw running like a maniac was you."

             "I didn't come all the way here to trade insults!" she said after she had recovered from her shock. Surprisingly she did not pull away. "How can you look so frighteningly calm after a close encounter with death?" her voice rose and it took all my efforts to keep from spewing a sarcastic remark. "Look," she continued,  "they had it announced over the speakers. A guy in white long-sleeves and black jeans was a victim of hit and run." 

            She tried to move, and I finally freed her from my embrace, if you could call it that, noting that I only held her in my arms for a duration of five seconds. I stared in a bored manner at her, one eyebrow flicked. "Your eyesight must be failing you. I'm in a shade of khaki. And kindly enlighten me as to why I'd be stupid enough to let myself get run over, when I'm apparently in a harmless coffee shop." My voice was coated with sarcasm. Nevertheless I had to ward off a smile, since had the gesture spoke volumes of how my personal welfare mattered to her. 

            She placed both fists on her waist, shooting me a defiant glare. "So what if it's khaki? My imagination went berserk. If I lost you all of a sudden without killing you first, I'm never going to forgive myself." 

            I shook my head and smirked, obliging my mouth to voice out the question which had perturbed my mind from the moment she appeared. "Why did you come all the way here to check on me?" 

            She averted her eyes and remained quiet, the shade of crimson on her cheeks deepening.

             "I must mean a lot to you." I said in a confident, devoid of emotion tone, though my heart was singing with joy.

            "You really are King of Nerves, Mikagami." I knew her long enough to tell that when her voice reached that richness it meant I would be the target of physical abuse. Instead, she surprised me by making a step towards the opposite end of the airport. My quick reflexes enabled me to grab her hand and spin her around to face me. 

            "I think I owe you an apology." I looked solemnly into her dark blue eyes, and she pulled out her hand from my grasp, gently. I ignored it and promptly continued. "I was acting insufferable these past few days. You deserved better treat---" 

            She silenced me by giving me a fierce yet tender look, which in turn made me feel like melting to a puddle of mush at her feet. She dropped her eyes and a soft smile graced her face. "Yes, I know. I heard your confession. You don't have to explain. It doesn't become you."

            "Good."

            She was silent for a minute and then glazed cobalt eyes met my gaze. "Um… Arigato. For the book and chocolates, and the roses you sent earlier. I found the notion heart-warming and very…"

            "Romantic." I finished for her after several moments of silence.

            A vein popped animatedly on her forehead and she turned to me with razor-sharp teeth. "Not."

            "I could read it in your eyes."

            "Fine, you're the flawless one between the two of us." She shot back. After what seemed like a moment's hesitation, she stretched out her right hand, which was somewhat trembling.

            I twitched a brow and examined her held out hand critically. "What's that?"

            She sighed and looked at me both threateningly and wearily, like a senior does to her junior, at the same time looking hopeful. "Truce?" 

            For this action of hers, one adjective popped into my mind: adorable. I allowed myself a small, small smile and grasped her hand, ignoring the sparks of current which run up and down my arm at her touch. I drew it back after a short time, lest she think I was an insufferable pervert, eyeing and clutching her hand like that.

            Her cobalt eyes looked up laughingly to mine. "Why'd you do that? I mean, the roses, the books and chocolates. You're a far cry from romantic and by the way, it totally clashes with your laconic personality."

            I raised an eyebrow at her. The fiery cynical side of her was once again unleashed. "It was the only way I could think of, recently discovering you were a sucker for these things." 

            "What?" her brow furrowed.

            I successfully pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper from the back pocket of my jeans.

            Her eyes widened in recognition as I held the sheet in broad daylight. "Hey! How did that stray into your clutches?" she demanded, reaching out to snatch it.

            Reading her movements, I tucked it safely behind my back.

            Not yet satisfied, she reached for my sides and tried futilely to snag her poem. I was then the recipient of a murderous glare. "Give that back right now, or I will make you! It's not yours!" she all but screamed.

            I inhaled, starting to feel impatient. "Are you sure it isn't mine?" I asked in a dead serious tone.

            She calmed down instantly. The silence stretched for some time and when she spoke, her cheeks were flushed. She refused to meet my eyes. "So it does belong to you. Big deal." She recited in a bored, allegedly emotionless voice, which she failed at accomplishing. 

            Something inside my chest began to swell, and the corners of my mouth twitched up. I stayed quiet for several moments, letting the poem and her letter replay in my mind.

            "What? Don't tell me you helped yourself into my privacy and read it."

For that she received a snort which resulted from trying to force down a chuckle.

She groaned in humiliation. "Nooo, I can't believe you did such a thing. Judging from your reaction, it's either you found it totally repulsive---"

            "It was... satisfactory." I said firmly.

            Her eyes widened before she burst into gales of laughter. "A compliment from _the _poet extraordinaire," Pulling herself together, she looked happily into my eyes. "Thank you. That's the best thing I've heard from you since I got stuck as your partner, working with you." She said gleefully, as if she were relating a compliment in the place of an insult.

            "Which, from the look on your face bawls it was a pleasure in itself."  For some unfathomable reason I found myself staring at her like a magnet drawn to metal.She fidgeted under my pining gaze and took a deep breath, smiling nervously. 

I winced in disgust. So much for not portraying a lovesick fool. It took the fun out of watching Fuuko squirm _nervously._ I thought, a little bemused. It finally became apparent that the girl was, after all, susceptible to such emotion. 

"It's suddenly so clear to me…" she was saying.

             I snapped my attention back to her words and raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

            "My feelings." she said in a suspicious tone which alerted my mind of a practical joke. "For someone… very special."

"I recall reading that in your letter." I informed her dispassionately.

She shot me a look which demanded silence. "Mi-chan, all our misunderstandings  opened new doors for me. He was under my nose the whole  time. And everything that's happened between you and me made me realize…" her voice dropped to a whisper. "just how much I love him." 

            _Love?_ The color drained from my face. How nice of me to just conveniently forget the moron who swept her off her feet. 

            To my sheer distaste, she giggled at my reaction. "I never really thought I'd fall for him. I was unprepared for that. But why not fall for him, him being every girl's dream guy and almost my best friend." She said in a smitten voice, which sent shivers, not of pleasure, up my spine.

            Feeling a migraine throbbing at my temples, I pressed a hand to my forehead. To add to my present troubles, my heart felt like it had just been wrenched from my chest. "Spare me the details." I cut her off, before evening fell. 

            Not heeding my words, she rattled on. "He almost reminds me of you. In fact, you two have a lot in common, especially where good looks are concerned." Her statement was promptly followed by a wink.

            On the other hand, I felt like retching. 

            "It just dawned on me. All of what we've been through together as partners, and I dare call it friendship, made me realize how much he means to me.  Thanks to you, I've finally found the guts to tell him how I really feel." 

            "Yes, thanks to me." I muttered sardonically—and darkly. 

            She batted her eyelashes at me and was for some bizarre reason, snickering, which all the more roused my suspicion. "Don't you want a clue, Mikagami? Though I'm sure you've met him."

            "No." I lied through gritted teeth. I suddenly felt moderately irked, like I wasn't speaking to the Fuuko Kirisawa I knew. That girl did _not _use dreamy tones and would rather slit her throat than drool over the finer points of men. Obviously, this was no ordinary boy she was ranting about. I restrained myself from the urge to kick something in utter distress. Couldn't she at least reciprocate a bit of my feelings?__

            She shook her head after one look at my face. "One characteristic of his that would aptly describe him is his calm, cool and controlled exterior." she said pointedly, which annoyed me to the very core.

            "Wonderful." I was exasperated.

            There was a tinge of pink on her cheeks. Finally, she looked me in the eye for the final blow. "And we fought many battles together as allies." 

            A thought raced across my mind, causing me to shudder. A look of mild irritation blended with mortification spread across my face and I choked the words out painfully,  "Ishijima? You're in love with HIM?" All of a sudden my heart could not stand the pressure of being wrenched and squeezed at the same time. Why _him? _I racked my brain for an answer. And what did she say… _we had a lot in common?  _

I forced myself to glare unfavorably at her. When I did, a look of pure appellation met my eyes. "You are so dense. No, it's not Domon."

            "Who is it then, if not Domon?" I shot back, not able to control the amount of anger that crept in my voice. 

            "Mi-chan…" she attempted to seize my hand, the playful glint in her eyes replaced by solemnity. 

            I drew it away, angry, annoyed and admittedly hurt.

            She shook her head, reached out and lightly pinched the tip of my nose. I resisted the reflex to avoid her touch, but chose to remain rooted to the ground on account of the successfully hidden tremor. 

Fuuko sighed and revealed a forced smile. "If I held a mirror in front of your face, would you recognize the one I've been describing?"             

            I found myself at a loss for words, calmly drawing myself to my full height, chiding myself for playing the pawn in her little game. How utterly degrading. "You are so annoying." I said monotonously, although my heart was showing signs of going berserk. And the revelation of her little game was playing in my mind.

            She burst into gales of laughter, pausing to wipe tears from her eyes. "The look on your face…that was classic." at that, she burst into a fresh wave of laughter, making me roll my eyes. "Your. Face. Was. Actually. _Contorted_ ._"_

_            She giggled, chortled, guffawed, chuckled and exhibited something out of all the forms of laughter. _

             "You're insane." I threw her a lethal glare, which seemed to work. 

            She paled and run a hand through her hair. "Is that all you're going to say?" 

            I glanced at my watch, and that very minute a sugary voice spoke from the speakers decked all over the coffee shop and the airport for that matter. "Flight number 54 will depart in 5 minutes. I repeat---"

            "That's my flight." A look of pure annoyance was etched on her face. 

            I smirked, reached for the straps of my bag and took a step for the door of the coffee shop. "Sayonara." 

            Her eyes widened to saucers and she replanted her foot on the ground, instantly blocking my way. "Wait. Please, you haven't even answered my question yet…"

            I smirked and side-stepped to the right. "You're not the only one with a four p.m. flight to catch." I started to walk past her, much to her consternation.

            "Exactly my point. I won't be seeing you for who knows how long! Will you at least answer my question?" she dashed to the front again, holding a palm to my chest. Her precision was somewhat amazing. "Why?"

            "Why what?" I asked, uncaringly. Or so it seemed.

            "Why are you doing this?" Her voice rose to a thousand decibels, again attracting the attention of the other customers. "What's with the roses, my favorite book, and the chocolates? And by the way, why on earth did you save me from those goons back in the darkened alley?"

            I decided it best not to answer, for in due time she would find out. I shuffled my way to the crowd of people, knowing it would be hard tracking me down from this point on.  

            "Mi-chan… you're not going to leave this unfinished business…" she was silenced for two seconds. "unfinished, are you?" 

            I frowned as I took in the waver in her voice. "Watch me." I replied, nudging my way through the thickened mass. Simultaneous gasps which apparently were not produced by Fuuko filled the air. I flinched, partly riled at my own response.  I would have murdered anyone who had caused her unbearable pain. And that implied I would be dead by now.

            Sneering, reasoning with myself that I would be putting her out of her misery in a short while and that she deserved it for baiting me into her game. Not that I hated her for it. It was because of that little charade I found out that

            _She loves me._

_            I allowed a sincere half smile to grace my face, reaching for my pocket and flashing my ticket for flight 54 at the guards which was instantly accepted with a nod. _

Thank goodness she thought of that little game or I would have used the ensui to force those words out of her. I climbed the steps to the airplane, was acknowledged by the flight stewardess to whose batting eyelashes I merely flicked an uninterested look and walked through the aisles of the plane.

            Speaking of Fuuko, there she was. The sight of her automatically made my heart beat faster. She was staring at something outside the window, at what I could not determine and did not really care. 

            _I hate aisle seats._ I thought detestably, eyeing the seat beside her.   

            Taking a deep breath, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and walked stealthily to her side. When I eased myself into the seat she felt my presence and turned to face me.

            Her jaw dropped open and she looked like she was deciding whether to hug me or throttle me.

            Of course I preferred the former, and no one got away with the second. "I didn't hear you back there. What was it you were asking me?" my face revealed nothing, though my eyes sparkled a little with mirth.

            "Why you went through all that trouble doing… those." Still in a shocked state, her voice droned on involuntarily and her eyes had widened. 

            I raised a brow and drew in closer, close enough for my lips to touch her ear. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Because I love you." I murmured as if it were the most natural thing in the world. To me, at this point, it was.

                                                            ***

                                                                        ~OWARI~

A.N.

            ^__^ Hey guys. Finally, I type down the word "Owari". I guess miracles can happen after all, seeing that I was able to finish this. Final reviews and comments will really be appreciated. And, yeah… the poem, I know it's quite _odd, do let me know if it sucked so I won't bother attempting anything "poetic" in the future. If I left you hanging back there, sorry, but please let your imagination do the rest for you. For those who thought this ending would suffice, thank you so much for understanding me. And let your imagination do the rest of the work. Of course I thank you very much for reading, and please drop me a review if you have time… so I'll know what to do in case another fic pops to mind. Of course, this would not be complete without my personal thanks (I can't believe I did this, you guys must mean a lot to me) to those who reviewed and here it is:_

**amakasu toko**

**            My first reviewer. Allow me to extend my gratitude. Thank you ever so much for hitting the "review" button and stringing together those kind words (rare it is when I am the recipient of such kindness) , and for being the first reviewer for that matter. Since yours was the first review I read, it kind of sent me into "jumping for joy" mode. Arigato, and I hope you like how things turned out in the end, ya? **

**meseta**

**            Delighted that you took the time to critique. The honest remark was immensely appreciated. I intentionally abstained Tokiya from laughing and cracking jokes (and acting like a general idiot) so as not to incur your ire… ohohohoho… although most of the time I think he's OOC enough already. Honored that you would reckon this fic as one of your favorites. By the way, I've read your RK works. Romance and humor are two combinations I like best and your fics satisfied my hunt. "Kaoru's Got Amnesia" had me howling with laughter, I love that fic. Kenshin and Kaoru are simply adorable, aren't they? And your talent in consideration, why not try writing a FOR Tok-fuu fic? Anyway, I hope ten chapters is long enough and that on top of everything, I haven't left you with an empty feeling. Thanks for reading!   **

**TouTetsu**

**            Awww… *bows down, japanese style*. Just 13 words from you and I was deliriously giddy. I hope I didn't spoil the way Mi-chan and Fuuko were _placed together. I cannot say how fascinated I was by your review because I particularly aimed to place those two together. You know, kind of like "magnetize" them (or staple them or fasten them together). Well said, and thank you very much for reviewing. Sorry about the last chapter of your "Triangle of Doubt" fic, it must have been disconcerting rewriting it all over again. Anyhow,  hope to read more of your works in the future, ne?  :-)_**

**Haruko**

**            Ahhh….   Hey there, Haruko (I'm speculating that you're a big fan of the Slam Dunk Series).. (the word DUH is hanging over my head like a thick mist).  Thanks for dropping me a review. Tokiya, in many ways can certainly identify with any of the given characters what with the personality, weapons and the drop dead good looks. Aya, however is the ultimate dead ringer. :- ) I definitely agree with you. So, here it is, I've wrapped up the story already. Anyway, at the risk of sounding redundant, thanks for commenting, reading and being one of the first reviewers. ^__^ thank you, thank you, thank you. Can't say it enough. Thanks, thanks, thanks.**

**kh@y**

**            Your review was among the many which inspired me to hang in there and keep on going and going and going and going… (*inserts the energizer bunny*). Thank you for the compliment on the dialogues. I think perhaps one of the greatest struggles I had to go through was the continuous drone in my head which often sounded like this: Oh no. He would never say that. She would never say that. He would never think that. Neither would she. Fortunately, chapter 10 was concluded. Hopefully, you like the ending. **

**zidane**

**            To one of the people who enlightened me on the true meaning of "Time is gold." If not for your wise advice, I would still probably be fussing on the fifth chapter. Thank you truly zidane. This is one of the rare occasions I saw a story to the end and you're one of the reasons why I'm celebrating now. **

**Darke Angel**

**            During intervals when I woke up in the middle of the night wondering whether I had incurred the proverbial writer's block, I thought of your review. For fearlessly pushing me on, I thank you. Let me assure you that you do not sound like a teacher but a wise counselor. For the compliment, arigato. Here's your ending, is it happy enough? :-)  I hope it at least made you smile. Than I can die happy. :- )**

**rampage786**

**            I was walking on sunshine the day I read your review. Honestly, it's not everyday that I read the word "nice" associated with my works. Hope my health instructor were as kindhearted as you. But unfortunately, hogs would be gliding across the sky first. ^_____^  I'm glad you liked the part where Tokiya recites the poem. If only it could happen in this lifetime, right? I'll call you and then we'll converge and scheme to kidnap him after his performance. Hehehe. Last chapter's finally posted, hoping against hope that you like it. :- )**

**Kaze Yurei**

**            A review from the lovely Kaze Yurei, I can't tell you how flattered I am. Why? Because, hey hey, I admire your fanfics and your composure while trudging through the turmoil of writing a fic. Most of all, not all people *write for themselves as well as their readers* if I remember your terms correctly. And you've reviewed this fanfic persistently. I'm overwhelmed with joy. Overwhelmed to the point of delirium, I think. For that and a lot more reasons I gladly dedicate this piece to you. I'm not a good judge of character but I can tell you are one of the nicest people around. Thanks for informing me how to take off the 'signed reviews only' thing. Hope you find the last chapter satisfying. Best of luck on your fic "Perfectly Stained Roses".  **

**Ranka**

**            You've put the quote "simple is beautiful" into perspective. Straightforward words you wrote, yet they bore a profound effect. Thank you for your heartfelt compliments, though I don't think I deserve those. If ever I see you in person, I'll extend my gratitude by rendering a song. This will be followed by 4 years of sending you samples of my concocted recipes. *cackles*  Oh my. I don't want to frighten you. However, I am extremely appreciative of the notion. For reading my story and reviewing it, thank you very much.**

**addictive**

**            I'm very**** privileged that one of the authors I respect has allotted time to review this story. Your other pen name is beautiful.dreamer, isn't it? I can't let this opportunity pass without saying this: I love the way you project Tokiya in your stories as someone who is strong, wise, unselfish and potentially caring. Your fic "Sanctuary" made my heart swell. Like you said, and I can't think of a better way to express my thoughts: I'm looking forward to the next chapter. I'm thrilled that you consider this fanfic one of your favorites. It's finished now and my fingers are crossed… hope you find the ending at least tolerable. More power, addictive.**

**Mizumi Saeko**

            Nice name, by the way. Strangely enough, I had recurring dreams wherein faceless people were rhythmically chanting, "chim. chim. chim. chim." Must be the result of reading your review over and over and over again. I must beg your pardon, you probably think I'm demented. Well, not exactly. I'm just deliriously happy. :- ) Hope this is to-fuish enough for you Thank you for keeping an eye on this fic and I truly hope you found the ending err…appropriate. "Two Sides of a Coin" shows a lot of potential, I wish you all the best.

**hitokiri-tokiya**

Nice pen name. My favorite swordsman and bishounen rolled in one. I'm wallowing in gratitude that you read my fic. And receiving a review from thou hast truly made my day. Chapter 5 was a chapter I enjoyed writing, though I had the time of my life with chapter 7. Thanks for the vote of confidence, hitokiri-tokiya. By the way, I'm _still_ dealing with the aftermath of reading "Soul", can you believe it? Though "Red: The Colour of Blood, the Colour of Love" in my opinion is the ultimate number one. When are you going to post the next fic? I'm starting to miss the articulate, detailed and descriptive style that is uniquely yours. Anyway, here's chapter 10. Hope you like it. ****

 **tokio-chan**

**            This is just an intuition of mine, but are you amakasu toko also? The "kyaa" expression together with the à~ß and those cute faces just put me into a pensive stupor. Regardless, I thank you for taking time to review. I feel really tickled by such kind words. For being one of the many inspirations, "many words can not express my thanks" – Fuuko, chapter 8. **

**Dark Phoenix**

**            Have you ever felt like you've been given the very gift you craved for yet it gets added again and again and just keeps getting better? My exact sentiments. Thanks for the continuous reviews. The first time, for pushing me on, the second time for pushing me on and helping me be more specific with the last part of chapter 7 and finally for giving me something to ponder upon. Hmm… the slow uptake was nothing compared to Tokiya's reaction when she was hinting on "he whom she loved". Um, yeah… Sorry if I made them a tad bit clueless. If you were at least amused and/or entertained by this last chapter, I'd be grateful enough. Thank you, thank you, thank you. **

**Rheia **

**            Ahh… hello, hello. Thanks for your reviews. I appreciate the support and silent inspiration you unknowingly granted me. And for posing a question, thanks. It's nice that you held no qualms about doing that. Now that I think about it, the explanation for Fuuko's attitude is found in chapter 5. Sorry if as a result you're more confused. Chapter 7, the amusement park chapter is terribly endeared to me. I was all smiles while reading your review… it's nice to know you liked the scene with the little girl, and let me know about it. Letting go of that…  here's chapter 10. Hope you enjoyed it. **

**Sachiko**

**            I followed your simple instruction and it led me to type the final word "Owari". That alone is enough reason to feel grateful. Here's more: a. Thank you for reading my fic, it feels good that people out there make you feel like your trying attempts at writing at least entertain them. b. thanks for the review, it is very much appreciated. Readers' satisfaction is one thing I should consider, as one of the authors who has reviewed here has pointed out. Arigato gozaimasu!**

**pratz**

**            Know what my initial reaction was upon receiving an interview from you?**** "Oooh…. Yeah… pratz read my fic, pratz read my fic, pratz read my fic!" *dances around the living room* --- something like that. I'm truly honored that a writer whose fic ("To Be Once Again With You") I adored just dropped me a review. I'm tickled by your notion of Fuuko and Tokiya's characterization. Of course, writing Fuuko's  POV was a lot easier. Sometimes, if you examine the parts closely, Tokiya tends to get very OOC. Your characterization of him in "To Be Once Again With You" is more apt. Best of luck on that fic, by the way. Thank you for reading, pratz! **

**13110816eriol hereegezawa18140519 (****manjie_killua@yahoo.com) **

**            Good day there! I wonder where you got your inspiration for name, it sparked my interest. Can I call you eriol for short? Eriol, I can't thank you enough for reviewing, and more than once at that. Knowing that you liked my fic moved me in a gigantic way, thank you ever so much. I tried writing spontaneously to keep you from guessing the plot but I guess I'm just not cut out to be the queen of spontaneity. Hope the ending satisfied your inquisitive mind. I'm sorry but I could not stretch the story outside 10 chapters, it's more than my powers can handle. Hehehehe. I admit I'll be missing this fic a lot lot lot. Anyway, me… Shakespeare? *tries to imagine standing next to a long-haired man in coattails* maybe sometime in the distant future, but not right now. I'm really not worthy. How'd you guess he was my favorite writer anyway? ;- ) Thanks for reading and reviewing this fic. **

**frodo potter**

**            Ah, the handsome young lad in J.R.R. Tolkien's novels with a touch of Gryffindor's renowned wizard. Nice to read a review from you. Can't say much about the plot, it'll be yours and mine secret… although one thing's for sure: you've got a good grasp of what I intended to do. Your review is one which I will truly cherish. Thank you for reading and reviewing, and here's the final chapter. Hope you like it.**

**hyper_shark**

**            hyper_shark! You have an extremely cute name, has anyone told you that? Thank you for finding the time to review this fic, I am extremely grateful. Hmm…….. yes, Fuuko and Tokiya do make a great couple, don't they? In fact, they look so good together that they put Miaka and Tamahome to shame. Thanks for reviewing, I appreciate it. Hope you liked the final chapter.**

**Jam-chan**

**            Good day, Jam-chan. (*smiles sheepishly*) Yup, I still have a lot to learn about time management. I have a pretty good idea how long I made you wait. I'm very very sorry, what with final exams and other whatnot I was granted just enough time to look at this fic and sigh before going to bed at night. My time frame was not suppose to exceed 3 months. Heeheehee. Thank you very much for those kind words, it gets me right here -à  ( ) ß um, that's supposed to be a heart. Try stretching your imagination. Finally finished chapter 10, hope you like it. **

**Melyan**

**            Hello Melyan! I still can't believe you read the whole story in one go. Yup, I know there are grammatical mistakes all over, sorry about that. Sentence construction can change the whole effect and flow of the story. Hmm, thanks for bearing with it! And the compliment, man oh man, that's like the sweetest thing I've read, thanks a lot! That just really made my day. I truly appreciate your review, thanks for taking the time. Finally, I wish you the best on "Wretched".**

**aerial sprite**

**            Nice, nice nick you've got there. I'm sorry the conflict made you feel like "it's not supposed to happen". In reality, I'm glad this story had an effect on you. Thank you for honestly voicing out your feelings. Although in this chapter the "stupid boy" comment drove home. I'm putting an end to the long wait, here's the final chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing.**

**nix **

**            Hi there nix, your wish is my command. Here's the final chapter, at long last. Thanks for criticing my work. Sometimes, it's your reviews that keep me from quitting, and part of the reason I reached the end is because you hit the "review" button. Thanks a million, nix and hope you like the last chapter! :- )**

**lime**

My heart couldn't take all those kind words… you almost made me weep (from extreme joy, don't worry). lime, thank you so so much for reading this and sending me a note afterwards. Although I had no idea people would actually find this fic tolerable, it is really _really_ my pleasure to write something that would entertain you. I have only two things I'd like you to remember: first, thanks for reviewing and second, I'm just reinforcing your statement: FuukoxTokiya forever! Yeah! J Hmm, anyway, Hope you like the ending. 

denise 

Hi, hi, hi denise! Thanks for following my fic from the very first time I uploaded. Can't tell you how much it warms my heart. Honored that you like my… what's the term… um, writing skill (I did cartwheels all over the house since it just dawned on me that someone thought I possessed that… oh, thank you, thank you, thank you). About the nc-17 idea, I'll think about it, (*blushes, being the mild person she is*). Thanks for the suggestion. We'll just see what happens, okay? Anyway, this is the last chapter, written and dedicated to you guys. Keeping my fingers crossed that you like it, Denise. J   


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